Skinny Love
by sifuamelia
Summary: High school AU based on "Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood." Seventeen year-old Winry Rockbell's life turns completely upside down when two old friends return home from the big city. But it's only going to get worse - a mysterious entity has big plans for the Elric brothers, and Winry's about to get caught in the middle of it. Rated for language, violence, and romance.
1. Absolutely (Story of a Girl)

**Chapter One**

**Absolutely (Story of a Girl)**

_This is the story of a girl, who cried a river and drowned the whole world_

_And while she looks so sad in photographs, I absolutely love her_

_When she smiles_

* * *

Let me just begin by saying that there are two sides to every story. There's _their_ side.

And then, there's _my_ side. The right side.

* * *

It's a muggy August night, and the sky's colored an ominous black sapphire, threatening all kinds of thunder and lightning. I'm cleaning up from dinner, and Granny's doing a crossword, while Den slumbers peacefully at her feet.

"Mr. Hughes called this afternoon while you were out, Winry," Granny comments as I pass by her place at the table, simultaneously balancing a precariously stacked hodgepodge of plates and silverware and attempting to mentally outline my latest ideas for my still unwritten college essay. "He says that Ed and Al want to come home for this school year."

I can't help it; two forks and a knife clatter to the floor and at least two plausible sentences vanish from my brain.

Granny's glasses have turned opaque in the light of the overhead lamp, and I can't see her expression. All she says is, "Do you want some help, child?"

"N-no, it's fine. Thank you." I carefully settle the dishes atop the counter next to the sink and bend down to retrieve the fallen cutlery.

"That's… surprising," I finally manage once I've stood. I don't fully understand my clenched fists or the quiver in my voice.

"Just 'surprising?'" Granny asks mildly. "We were both sure that you'd be jumping for joy."

I roll my eyes, but she can't see. "When are they coming home?"

"Well, they should be here by sometime tomorrow. They're taking the night train out of Central." She then lets out a ferocious sort of groan.

"Granny, what–"

"This infernal word puzzle! Whoever writes these things must be some kind of sadist who enjoys watching little old ladies suffer!"

I laugh as I begin scrubbing down a plate. "Okay, what's the question?"

"'What is a four letter word for enameled metal?'"

"Are you serious, Granny? It's iron!"

Granny looks at the puzzle, and then at me, over the rim of her glasses. "Well, so it is." She chuckles. "That's embarrassing."

"What a sadist," I mutter. I reach for another dish.

"Hey, missy! We aren't all future mechanical engineers!" she admonishes, sticking a wrinkly, calloused finger in my direction.

I just laugh at this. "Granny, we both know that you're an ace mechanic as well. Your eyesight's just… well…"

"I know I'm getting all old and crumbly, child. You don't need to tread lightly about it." She winks at me and then stands, although her head doesn't come up much farther than the table she had been sitting at.

"Let me help my only grandchild with those dishes."

* * *

The first of the thunderstorm begins just as I finish with my shower, which I consider pretty fortuitous, because I don't plan to be electrocuted just yet. First, I need to get into MIT.

I'm toweling off in my room when Den comes rushing in like a black and white bullet. She howls at the sight of me, which nearly causes me to drop my towel, and then leaps onto my bed and buries her furry head beneath my quilt.

"Careful, Den! You know that that quilt's all I have left of Mom–" I cut myself off. No use rubbing salt into old wounds.

There's a quiet knock at the door. "Come in," I answer quietly, even though I'm still in my towel.

Granny looks a little taken aback at my appearance, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she sits next to me on the bed and begins to rub Den's shaking head.

"I guess that makes two of us who aren't huge fans of thunder," she chuckles, smoothing back her fur in a calming gesture. "Poor, poor puppy."

"Granny…"

"Yes, Winry?"

"Where are they going to stay?"

"Ed and Al?" She knows right away whom I mean. "They're staying with us, of course."

"_What_?!" I exclaim, but it sounds like a shriek, which causes Den's ears to perk up. "_Here_? In _our_ house?"

"Unless you want them to stay with Principal Mustang again–"

"Noit'sfine," I say much too quickly, my words slurring together. I draw in a deep breath and reach over Granny's tiny lap to give Den a pat. "They can stay here."

She looks at me just as she had in the kitchen, when I couldn't quite see her expression. She opens her mouth, and I'm sure she's about to impart some kind of ancient wisdom on me.

But all she says is, "You'll need to be careful about walking around in just a towel like that."

"Granny!" I hit her with one of my pillows.

* * *

The next morning, I'm far too fidgety. I should be slogging through my summer reading or working on my latest project or going out for a run or _something_. Anything but sitting on the front porch stoop, staring off towards the rise in the hill, where, at any moment, Ed and Al could appear.

I don't know why I'm so nervous about seeing them. They were my childhood playmates, my best friends, the only people I could truly rely on besides Granny (and Den, of course, if you count dogs as people, which I do).

But it's been over a year since I'd last seen them. What if things had changed?

_Of course they've changed,_ I scoff to myself. _That's what people do. You can't fight it._

Den emerges from the house and sits down on the concrete beside me, wagging her tail. The night's thunder brought a beautiful morning to us, with a cloudless blue sky and a brightly shining sun. The dog gently tugs at the sleeve of my too-big white t-shirt, and I giggle at her pleading expression.

"Okay, okay! Den, fetch!" I grab the piece of multi-colored knotted rope and give it a good toss. It, along with Den, disappears over the rise in the hill, but then–

There's a nasty-sounding thwack, accompanied by a shout of surprise.

"Ow! Hey! What the hell!" cries out an all-too-familiar voice.

"Brother!" A second voice floats towards me over the wet grass, filled with concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," answers the first dismissively. "Hey, Den! Look at you! You're such a big girl!" All of the anger has disappeared, replaced with highly uncharacteristic mushiness. "C'mon! Bring the rope back!"

_This is it._ My heart is beating far too erratically for me to not understand why. I fiddle with one of my many earrings, push an errant strand of blond hair out of my face, and then–

Den appears first, gleefully pulling the length of rope. And then, following her over the rise in the hill, are Edward and Alphonse Elric.


	2. Pompeii

**Chapter Two**

**Pompeii**

_And if you close your eyes_

_Does it almost feel like nothing's changed at all?_

* * *

The first thing I notice, before anything else, is the height.

"Unbelievable," I mutter to myself.

"Hey, Winry," Alphonse says as his characteristically wide smile lights up his face. He looks much healthier than when I last saw him; his face less gaunt, his skin less pale. His golden-brown eyes are open and bright, and his hair, which matches the shade of those eyes perfectly, has a slight wave to it.

"Didja miss us?"

"Miss you?" My voice is incredulous. "_Miss you_?"

I see tackling them to the front walk with a bear hug as a perfectly acceptable answer. We go down as a threesome, and it's just like old times–

"Watch it, Winry," Edward growls from beneath me, speaking for the first time.

I prop myself up on my elbows as Alphonse begins to laugh, but I have eyes for only his older brother. Edward looks up at me with eyes a shade lighter than his brother's and a slight grimace that reminds me all too much of the past.

"Sorry," I whisper. I roll away and onto the hard-packed dirt of the front path, not really caring about the state of my shirt. Now we're lying side-by-side, staring up at the blinding sun. The illusion of our original feelings of camaraderie seems shattered.

I try to lighten up the mood. "It's nice to see you too, Ed," I say, only half-sarcastically.

Alphonse laughs even more. "This just isn't your day, Brother. First you get hit in the head with Den's chew toy, and then a beautiful girl knocks you flat on the ground–"

"Ugh," Ed and I groan simultaneously. I look over at him and try out a smile. It seems to work; his mouth curves upward ever so slightly. He sits up carefully and flexes his right arm, the long sleeve of his red t-shirt successfully covering his prosthetic limb. I'll always know it's there, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

After all, I helped Granny make it.

There's an awkward silence, but I don't think Al notices it. He's too busy sniffing the air. "I think I smell apple pie," he says suddenly. Den barks, seemingly confirming it.

He's up in a flash. "Last one gets the smallest slice!"

Ed's eyes narrow. "Hey, wait–"

It's too late; his younger brother, along with Den, has vanished inside the house.

He sighs and stands up, absentmindedly dusting off his pair of faded jeans. He offers me his left arm without quite looking at me. "C'mon."

I slowly take his hand, trying to ignore the blush that's threatening to creep across my face and up the back of my neck.

"Thanks," I say after he pulls me to my feet.

"No problem." He drops my hand like a hot coal.

He hesitates for a moment after that, and I'm surprised to see his cheeks turning the same color as his shirt. "Look, Winry, I… er, it _is_ really nice to see you again. Thanks for letting us stay with you."

He sounds so weirdly formal, so unlike the Ed that I know. I lightly punch him on the arm – his good arm. "Hey, chill out. Let's go eat some apple pie."

He smiles at me now, for real. "Did you notice that I'm taller than you know?"

That's the moment when I know that things are going to be okay. I decide that I need to beat him into the house, so I begin to run for the door. "Remember what Al said?" I holler over my shoulder. "Last one gets the smallest slice!"

In a second, he's on my heels. "So you _did_ notice!"

"I hope Granny makes you drink milk!"

* * *

That night, much to Ed's consternation and Granny's amusement, the principal of Resembool County High comes by. Roy Mustang isn't exactly an old family friend, but I honestly think Granny likes having him over because he keeps Ed in check so well. Accompanying him is Vice Principal Riza Hawkeye, who's pretty much his closet girlfriend, save for the fact that the whole town knows, and her shiba inu, Black Hayate, whom Den has always been pretty uncertain about. The two dogs sniff at each other; Hayate decides to remain sitting primly at Riza's ankles, while Den opts for her plush doggy bed sitting in the corner of the living room.

Roy wastes no time getting down to business. "Hughes sent over your luggage," he says briskly as he hands Ed and Al two suitcases. "He said to call him up if you or Alphonse forgot to pack anything."

Al nods quickly. "Yes, sir!" He takes the bags in his hands and stumbles awkwardly towards the staircase.

"I'd like to talk to Edward alone for a few minutes, if that's alright with everyone," continues the principal.

This seems to both please and bother Granny. "Mr. Mustang, with all due respect–"

"Pinako," he interrupts lightly, but there seems to be a hint of warning in his deep voice. "Please."

"It's okay, Granny," Ed says cheekily, giving her a thumbs-up. "He doesn't scare me."

Hayate growls.

Roy rolls his eyes. "Let's get this over with, Elric." He practically drags him into the dining room and shuts the swinging door with an intimidating finality.

Riza sighs audibly. "What children." She sits down on the couch, which faces the brick fireplace and the TV. I choose a place next to her. I've always really admired Riza. She's always so cool and collected, and never lets her temper get the best of her, which is unfortunately one of my biggest faults.

Al returns and flops into the overstuffed wing-backed chair that sits rather regally in the corner, next to the carved wooden bookcase. According to Granny, my dad had built it as a teenager in order to impress my mom, who was an avid reader. Building bookshelves hadn't captured his interest for long, but I know that Mom had for the rest of his life.

Riza coughs quietly, and I look up from my hands, clasped tightly together in my lap. She looks at me with chocolate-brown eyes that are much warmer and kinder than most people would suspect.

"How has your summer been, Winry?" she asks.

"Alright, Ms. Hawkeye."

"Getting ready for college applications?"

I nod, which is a lie, because I still haven't started my essay. But the vice principal doesn't need to know that.

Al grunts, his chin resting on his chest as he sags into the armchair. Despite his politeness and proper attitude, his posture's always been deplorable, just like his brother's. "Maybe you should knock some sense into my brother, Winry. He has no idea what he's doing."

Riza sniffs. "It's true. We received his academic records from Central, and apparently, he has yet to take the SATs."

Granny returns with a tray loaded with iced water and the remnants of the apple pie. Riza thanks her and takes a glass; so do I. Al opts for another slice of pie. "That boy will be the end of all of us, I swear. He's eighteen years-old, and he still won't drink his milk."

* * *

I'm getting ready for bed, but I can hear the two arguing about something or other on the other side of the walls. They'll be sharing the guest bedroom throughout their stay, and I'm kinda worried about Al's safety.

I want to turn out the lights and bury myself under the covers, but their voices are too loud. I'm about to knock on the wall that separates us and demand that they shut their pieholes, but then I hear Ed say–

"He just thinks we _might_ be in danger. 'Might' being the operative word. Calm down, Al. It'll be fine."

_Danger?_ For about a fourth of a second, I feel guilty about listening in, but I decide to press my ear to the wall anyway.

"But Brother–"

"He's just an old coot. Him and Hughes. They're feeding off of each other. They're making mountains out of molehills! We have _nothing_ to worry about."

"Okay…" Al sounds just as skeptical as I feel, because to me, it sounds like Ed's too busy trying to convince himself instead of his brother. "I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

"No one will, little bro. I _promise_."

I wait a few seconds more, but they've finished talking, and my ear's beginning to hurt in the many places where it's pierced. I frown and go to turn off the light.

It's too hot in my room to be beneath even the sheets, and I find myself tossing and turning.

_Why would Principal Mustang and Mr. Hughes think that Ed and Al are in danger? Who would be endangering them? Who could get hurt?_

_What's going on?_


	3. Bubble Toes

**Chapter Three**

**Bubble Toes**

_I remember when, you and me, how we used to be_

_Just good friends, wouldn't give me none_

_But all I wanted was some_

* * *

The next two weeks pass in a blur, and I don't hear anything else at all about the supposed 'danger' our new houseguests are in. I want to press the issue – if Roy thinks something's wrong, shouldn't we _all_ be worried? But I'm so glad to have those two back, I try to stifle my building suspicions and focus entirely on making them feel welcome and happy to be home.

With Al, everything's easy. He's always been so happy-go-lucky and pleasant, despite everything's that happened to him. But Ed's the exact other side of the coin. If it weren't for their close resemblance, I don't think many people would guess at their relationship.

And it's like he's _trying_ to drive me absolutely crazy. Breathing down my neck while I'm tinkering in the shop. Listening to loud music while I'm trying to finish my summer reading. Chasing Den around while I'm trying to mop and vacuum. No matter what I'm doing, no matter where I am, he always seems to be there, screwing me up. He swears it's all unintentional, but his eyes are always too bright for me to believe him fully.

It's five blisteringly hot days before school begins when the proverbial straw breaks the proverbial camel's back. I'm sitting on my bed and struggling through a particularly tricky bit of _Othello_ (reading and writing have never been my strong suit; I'm more of a math and science girl) when Ed appears in my doorway.

"Hey," he begins, breaking out into a huge grin that makes me feel a little warmer than usual.

"Hey, yourself," I reply without looking up from the gibberish in front of me.

He decides to make himself at home and sits down on the bed next to me. He peers over my shoulder, and I'm very tempted to hit him in the stomach with my reputedly sharp elbow. "_Othello_, huh?"

"Yup."

"How's it going?" He tugs lightly on the end of my long ponytail, his real hand hesitating at its tip for a few long seconds before falling away.

"It'd be better if you weren't here," I retort sharply. "Leave me alone. I need to finish this before school starts."

"Nerd alert," he says mockingly. "Why'd you get homework over the summer?"

"Advanced placement classes," I explain. "And they're very hard. So again, leave me alone to drown."

"'Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.'"

I finally make eye contact with him and immediately regret it. His eyes are searching my face, looking for something that I don't know, and that slow heat is returning, creeping up the back of my neck.

"So… you _have_ read it?"

"Hmmm?" he asks, not really paying attention. He's already occupied, and it's making me jumpy.

"Ed! You've read _Othello_?"

His gaze abruptly breaks and his eyes move to roving the floorboards. "Oh. Yeah. Shakespearean tragedy's always a blast."

I frown at him. There are so many questions spiraling through my mind, so many things I want to ask him. What comes out of my mouth is–

"Can you help me with it?"

_Wait. What._

Ed looks up, surprised. "You. Want me. To help you." Suddenly, he half snorts, half laughs.

"Well, looks like you've changed quite a bit since we left!"

That's not what I wanted to hear. Not at all. "A simple 'yes' would have sufficed," I respond, dropping the book to the wayside and crossing my arms over my chest.

"The old Winry would have been _way_ too stubborn to ask me for help–"

_That's it._ I jump up from my bed and face him head on. I feel so annoyed, so exasperated, and I can't begin to understand why.

"Get out, Ed," I shout, pointing towards the door. "Just get out. And stop bothering me all the time!"

His golden eyes flash, then narrow. He's suddenly standing as well, facing me, and a surge of hatred for him rushes through me. I hate him for bothering me, for showing up with little explanation after a year away, for keeping secrets. I hate him for being taller than me. I hate his stupid, smug, devastatingly handsome face–

_Wait. What._

We have a mini stare-down, like two cowboys in an old western, totally alone under a burning dusky sun except for cacti and the occasional tumbleweed.

"Fine," he says suddenly, and the tumbleweed rolls away. "Fine." And just like that, he disappears into the hallway without looking back. This makes me even angrier, and yet…

"Ugh," I groan, slumping to the floor. My long bangs cover my eyes, and for a moment, I pretend that I'm still a little kid, convinced that if I can't see the world, it can't see me.

Den quietly pads into my room and sniffs at me curiously. Her hot breath tickles my cheek.

I sigh and brush my blonde curtains away, revealing the room just as I had left it. I then reach out to her and hug her close to my chest. She snuffles a bit and then rests her furry head in my lap, letting out a contented sort of breath. Her eyes droop shut, and we stay that way for quite awhile.

"I sometimes think you're the only one who loves me, Den."

* * *

"Hey, Winry–"

I let out a little shriek, nearly dropping the package of highlighters and three-ring binder I had in my hands. "Oh, my God! Alphonse!"

"I had a feeling you'd be here," he says, sidling up to me with an almost shy look on his face. "You always said that school supply shopping was a kind of therapy for you."

I press the binder to my chest. "Who says I need therapy?"

He raises a single dirty-blond eyebrow. "Ed's been moping around since you left. Granny asked me to check up on you."

I grab a pair of scissors from the shelf next to me and turn them over in my hands, feeling rather diabolical. "I'm going to cut off that stupid ponytail of his–"

At the same moment, a salesgirl comes by, wearing khakis, a red apron, and a bored look. "Hi, welcome to Staples, can I–" She blinks at us from behind Coke-bottle glasses, taking in the scene. Me, brandishing a pair of scissors at an imaginary head. Al, looking taken aback and attempting to get out of my way.

"Um…" she begins. She looks ready to run for her life.

"Sorry," Al says, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "She's just–"

"Leaving. I'm leaving," I interrupt tiredly. All the sudden, I feel empty. "Sorry," I tack on.

"I'll just ring you up," she responds quickly. "Don't hurt me. I'll give you a coupon."

* * *

The Staples is located in a shopping complex near school, and luckily, it isn't far from home. The sun had thankfully set, and we walked home in wonderfully cooler weather. We didn't have much to say to each other, but we were okay with it. Al and I had always had a comfortable sort of relationship; we could just pass time together with no need for conversation.

We were just over the rise in the hill when Al mutters, "Uh-oh."

"What? What's wrong–"

_Oh._ There was Ed, sitting on the front stoop with an expression on his face that I could only classify as odd.

"Hmph." I elbow my way past Al, determined to get safely inside without having to talk to his abomination of a brother.

"Wait, Winry," says Ed as I walk past him, fumbling for my keys. His tone stops me; it sounds almost pleading, an emotion that I've never associated with him, ever.

I can't help it; I look down at his face. He definitely looks a little sorry, but I can't tell if it's the genuine article.

My hand clenches so tightly around my key as I unlock the door that, when I remove it, I find irregular grooves left behind on my palm. "Al, can you bring these into the kitchen?"

He takes the bags out of my hands. "You sure you don't want to keep the scissors?" he asks.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and turn away. "No, it's fine." I then try to smile for him. This isn't his fault. "Thanks for all your help, Al."

He nods and quickly disappears through the darkened entryway.

This time, I'm the one sitting down next to Edward. Despite the chilly air, the concrete steps are warm and strangely comforting.

"Look, Winry, I'm sorry–"

"Do you know why I got mad at you?" I ask.

He looks over at me strangely. Opens his mouth. Closes it. Reconsiders. "I guess… No. I don't. I just assumed you were annoyed at me... which I kinda-sorta deserved."

"No, it's not that... Well, yeah, that's actually the truth. But not all of it." I pause, thinking.

"You said that I've changed since you left," I explain. "It just… it scared me. Because when you guys first got here, I was… Ugh. I was scared. I was actually, truthfully, verifiably scared that we wouldn't be friends anymore. Not like how we used to be, anyway. Stupid, right?"

He continues to stare at me for a few quiet moments as the first stars begin to appear overhead. Then–

"You know, for someone who's so goddamn smart, you can be pretty dumb sometimes, Win."

"Ed–"

The look on his face cuts me off immediately, and out of the corner of my eyes, the world seems to shift. Something's changed. Something's different. Something's happening–

"Edward! Winry!" comes a sudden shout from inside the house. It's Granny, and her voice sounds so upset that I nearly trip over the top step running to her. Ed's hand on my back steadies me. I nod at him, a silent thank you, and rush inside with him close behind.

"Granny, what's wrong?"

She and Al are clustered around the TV, with the latter's arm around the former's surprisingly frail shoulders. I've never seen Granny as old or weak; she's always been so strong, hardworking, and spirited. Yet now, as I move across the living room towards her, she seems like an entirely different person, hunched in on herself like so.

"Oh, no…" Ed says in a whisper, and my eyes are drawn to the screen overhead. In an instant, my mouth is hanging wide open, my eyes widened in shock.

_Man, 29, found dead in Central Park, Central City._

I don't pay attention to the rest of the text scrolling across the screen or the reporter jabbering away on the sidebar. My eyes are drawn to the flickering, bluish picture featured in the center, a picture that features a face I know all too well. A face that had always smiled at me, always cheered me up, always showed love for me.

The face of a man who meant so much to everyone he knew.

"Mr. Hughes," Al murmurs. "Oh, no, Mr. Hughes…"


	4. Down the Line

**Chapter Four**

**Down the Line**

_I see problems down the line_

_I know they're not mine_

_I see darkness down the line_

_I know it's not fine_

* * *

"Winry! Hey, Winry! Win! Rockbell!"

Someone is shouting at me across the packed cafeteria, but it doesn't register with me until she comes into plain sight. She elbows me with an unfair amount of strength, causing me to double up and wheeze in surprise.

"Earth to Winry Rockbell," says Paninya Cranz in a more-than-slightly accusatory tone. "What's up with you? I haven't seen you since track ended back in June, and here you are, ignoring your best friend on the first day of school as well!"

I giggle at her mock-hurt expression, but I know that beneath it all, she's genuinely offended. I straighten out and throw an arm around her wiry shoulders, and I'm happy to see that she doesn't shrug me off.

"I'm really sorry, Paninya. I really am. I know it isn't a great excuse, but work really picked up over the summer, and Granny needed help in the shop. But you're right, I should have made time to see you."

She huffs and grabs me by the waist so hard that my toes lift off the ground. I shriek in surprise, and now she's laughing at me. She gives me a quick spin and releases me. I totter dizzily over to the nearest table and sit down heavily atop its plastic surface.

"It's okay. I know by now that all mechanics are absolutely, positively nuts for bolts." She comes to sit down next to me and drops a wink at me over one liquid-black eye. "I guess we're still friends."

"Just 'guess?'"

She ignores my affronted tone. "Let's compare schedules!" she exclaims, quickly gathering her dark cropped hair into a very short tail. We lean over the two slips of paper that hold our fates as seniors in their nonexistent hands.

Paninya's brow furrows as she quickly compares subjects, timeslots, and teachers. "Well, we have Calculus together… and Physics! Oh, I'm not in Computer Science, I took Shop instead. Wait. You have to take _Physical Education_?"

I sigh, looking longingly at the empty space on her schedule. "Yeah. I forgot to sign up for the summer credit–"

"Well, at least we'll be together," interrupts an all-too-familiar voice.

_Ed._ I shiver slightly, despite the intense heat of the noticeably-unconditioned air.

Paninya and I turn around in tandem, and I give him an once-over. He's wearing the uniform's navy dress slacks, which cover his left leg prosthetic, but surprisingly enough, he's rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, leaving his arm uncovered. It isn't drawing much attention – only Paninya looks truly intrigued by its presence.

"Wow, Winry! You did an amazing job on this!" Without asking, she reaches out to grasp Ed's prosthetic arm, stroking its smooth metallic surface. "It's so light!"

"Nice to see you, too, Paninya," Ed comments with just a hint of sarcasm. He watches her movements warily, and I feel just the tiniest bit bad for him. Paninya obviously means well, but his prosthetics have always been an understandably sore spot for him.

"Oh, yeah, hi," she responds distractedly, reaching for his hand and testing the flexibility of his pointer finger.

"Man, I wish my legs looked as sleek as this! This is absolutely stunning work."

"Hey, now, Dominic did a really good job on those," I counter. And there they are, reflecting the early morning light streaming in through the cafeteria's windows, just as conspicuous as Ed's arm beneath her navy and green plaid skirt.

Paninya lost her legs in the car crash that took her parents' lives nearly a decade ago. When she was hospitalized and fitted for replacement legs, the orthopedist took such a shine to her that he decided to adopt her. Today, she and Dominic live in Rush Valley, the next town over, but she commutes to Resembool County High because of its better reputation and runs track on a pair of fitted knee-to-foot carbon-fiber legs constructed by her adopted father.

"Yeah, but would you talk to him anyway?" she asks, dropping Ed's arm completely in favor of tugging on mine. "It'll be like two old ladies swapping recipes!"

"Yeah, that's exactly how it works," Ed mutters, casting a glare downwards at his arm. I frown slightly and turn to Paninya.

"I'm sure Granny would love to have you two for dinner sometime anyway," I say. "How about –"

With an astonishingly loud crackle and pop, the voice of an eternally bored high school principal filters over the intercom, cutting me off midsentence.

"Good morning, RCH. This is Principal Mustang with just a few notes on today's proceedings." There's an audible cough, and then he continues.

"The homeroom bell will ring immediately after this announcement. Please proceed in an orderly fashion to your assigned homeroom classroom. Freshmen, you will gather in the auditorium for a short presentation from Vice Principal Hawkeye regarding schedules, class expectations, and code of conduct." He sighs loudly then. "Is that it?"

I can practically hear Riza's eyes rolling. There's an awful sort of whine as she pulls the intercom telephone away from Roy. "Hello, students. I have one final note for the ladies in the building. Please remember that uniform guidelines are not suggestions, but rules. Your skirts are not intended to be worn like tiny miniskirts–"

"Tiny miniskirts?" comes a shout. "Every girl should wear–"

With another infuriated hiss, Riza's voice recommences. "Just – ugh. Girls, please take note that we will be performing routine checks on uniform throughout the warmer months, and getting a detention slip for wearing your skirt too short is just plain stupid."

Paninya snorts with laughter. "I love her."

"So, welcome back, RCH," Riza says with finality. "Homeroom begins in five minutes. Have a wonderful first day!"

With that, the line closes, and the steady stream of whispers that had gone unchecked during the announcements return to their normal, deafening volume.

"Where's homeroom?" Ed asks Paninya. Their surnames are close together in the alphabet, so they belong in the same one.

She consults her schedule, frowning. "It's in a tiny classroom near the black box theater… That's strange, though. We have a new teacher!"

"Who?" I ask, curious.

"Someone named Mr. Nevy."

"Never heard of him – wait! I have a new teacher as well!" I jab my finger at my schedule. "Miss Sult?"

Paninya's flat nose, dusted with a light spray of freckles, wrinkles. "Never heard of her, either." She shrugs. "C'mon, Ed, let's get this bullshit over with. God, I've always hated homeroom…"

I smile. "Have a good day!"

To me, Ed looks pretty pathetic as Paninya drags him away, chattering all the while. I can't help but laugh at his latest predicament.

* * *

Miss Sult is in fact a new teacher. She's also the most beautiful person I think I've ever laid eyes on. She wears her thick hair, even darker than Paninya's, in heavy curls that nearly reach her waist, and her large, expressive eyes are outlined perfectly with dark ink, giving her an overall dramatic and almost… I can't explain it, but her appearance is just so compelling. I feel as if I can't tear my eyes away.

She smiles at all of us, her deep red lips curling at one side as if she knows a juicy secret. I blush, still utterly confused as to why I feel this way. But I'm not the only one, I notice. All around me, my fellow students gape at her, clearly just as transfixed by her impossibly perfect appearance as I am.

"Hello, students," she practically murmurs in what can only be described as a sultry tone. I can only blink up at her and nod, utterly entranced by her presence.

"My name is Miss Sult. I'm RCH's new Advanced Placement Literature and Composition teacher, and I'm very excited to be here with you." The way she said 'you' made it sound like she's especially pleased to be with each of us as individuals.

"Let's take attendance," she says, and for the next half hour, my peers and I hang on her every word.

* * *

"I just had the weirdest experience," I confess to Ed later during fourth period. Because it's the first day, we don't need to dress out for P.E. class – Mr. Armstrong hands out locks and uniforms and then we're free to do whatever we want, so long as we don't leave the sweaty confines of the gym. "My homeroom teacher, this Miss Sult…Well, she was just so beautiful…"

Ed thumps my shoulder. "Changing sides, Winry?" he asks playfully.

"Oh, haha," I say as sarcastically as possible. "No. The point is, while she was talking to us, I couldn't look away. It's like… Okay, this is going to sound really dumb, but I felt like she put a spell on me. Or something."

"How much Shakespeare have you been reading, anyway?" Ed asks, but his amber eyes are suddenly very tight. I can't explain it at all. I nervously raise a hand to my mouth and chew at my thumbnail, a nervous habit that I've never been able to get rid of.

"Unfortunately, too much. But this isn't _A Midsummer Night's Dream_." I sigh, staring across the gym. On the other side, Mr. Armstrong is being typical Mr. Armstrong – his white dress shirt has been tossed aside for the sake of showing off his impossibly large muscles to a gaggle of highly intimidated freshmen.

"No," Ed responds thoughtfully. "It isn't. It definitely isn't."


	5. I Will Follow You Into the Dark

**Chapter Five**

**I Will Follow You Into the Dark**

_No blinding light, or tunnels to gates of white_

_Just our hands clasped so tight_

_Waiting for the hint of a spark_

* * *

Although today is the funeral of Maes Hughes, breakfast is a strangely cheery affair. I emphasize strange, because although there was much polite passing of milk and laughter over the absolutely weird prize toy that came with the box of Froot Loops (it was a Lucky the leprechaun figurehead – not kidding), no one was actually happy.

After all, someone had died.

* * *

I hate that I notice how good Ed looks in his suit. It's the only one he owns, and despite its slightly rumpled appearance, the black sports jacket contrasts perfectly with his golden hair, and the matching slacks make him look even taller. He and Al stand side by side a little ways away from the crowd and whisper all throughout the service, which surprises me greatly, although I can tell that they don't mean any disrespect by it.

To tell you the truth, the orator's words seem pretty meaningless to me as well. As he drones on and on beneath the unfairly beautiful sun, they sound far too overused and bland to even scratch the surface of the significance of Mr. Hughes's life.

Gracia and Elicia Hughes, Mr. Hughes's wife and daughter respectively, stand near the head of the grave next to Roy, who was especially close with him – they had fought in the Ishval War together. As always, Riza keeps close to him, head bowed and hands clasped tightly together.

Suddenly, little Elicia is crying, and the orator pauses to stare at the three year-old in utter disbelief, as if the violent onslaught of tears has disrupted not only his impersonal speech but also his entire existence. The rest of the attendees, mostly family but also government officials, members of the school board, and a ragtag assortment of Ishval veterans, gape at her as well, but in a much more sympathetic manner.

"Mommy!" Elicia shrieks, grabbing at her mother's paralyzed hands. "Mommy, how come? Why are they burying Daddy?"

A lump begins to well up in my throat, and I can feel myself beginning to shake.

"Who are those people? Why are they burying him, why? They can't! I don't like it! Daddy said he had lots of work to do and if they bury him, he can't do it when he wakes up!"

Suddenly, there are two sets of arms around me – Al stands to my left and Ed appears at my right. They both hug me tight to their sides, and in that moment, I realize that these two boys will always have my back, no matter what.

_Will I be able to do the same for them?_ I ask myself, and I'm scared, because I'm unsure. All of the sudden, the balmy September day seems much chillier, the breeze less forgiving, the shadows cast by the surrounding gravestones much larger.

"Stop them, Mommy! Daddy has to do his work, he told me! Why are they burying Daddy, Mommy? Why?"

I'm trying to cry as quietly as possible. I feel like I don't deserve to be sad, not like Elicia does, anyway. Hughes wasn't my father. I never lived with him, like Ed and Al did last year. I didn't fight in a war with him, like Roy and Riza.

But I did see him smile at me. He did make me laugh. He treated me kindly, made me happy. He invited me to dinner, and he even let me babysit his "greatest treasure" sometimes!

_He loved me. I know it. And I loved him, too, just as much as everyone else did. No matter how much time I spent with him, no matter the fact that we weren't family, I still loved him all the same. _

_I can cry for someone I love, no matter the circumstances,_ I reason.

Mrs. Hughes tries to gather her small daughter back into her arms, the normally cheerful brightness of her face replaced by horribly gaunt shadows.

"Come on, come here, Elicia, El–"

"Daddy, wake up!" Elicia screams at the top of her lungs.

But it's too late – the coffin has been lowered into the uncaring ground, and the man that was once a beloved coworker, war buddy, friend, family member, father, spouse... That man is gone.

* * *

I decide that it's a good idea to pay my respects, no matter how hard they are for me to say. I start with Gracia and Elicia, but I'm not sure how much they hear. For one thing, Elicia is still sobbing hysterically, and Gracia is occupied greatly with calming her down.

"Thank you, Winry," she says to me without quite looking up. "That's very kind."

I just nod, because I know that's all I can be for her right now. I quietly back away and leave, and it's like I was never there.

I walk across the grass aimlessly, looking out across the manmade hills and valleys ruffled by the late summer wind. Everything looks so perfectly peaceful, I notice. It just isn't fair.

_But someone as kind and good as Mr. Hughes at least deserves a nice funeral,_ I think. That thought quickly strikes me as morbidly absurd.

"Winry," begins a voice uncertainly next to my ear. I turn and see Alphonse; Ed is standing just a bit farther down the hill, jacket slung over his shoulder. "We want to go talk with Roy and Riza. Would you like to come?"

_No pressure,_ his large golden eyes seem to add.

"Y-yes," I answer, my voice cracking slightly. "Of course."

* * *

Roy and Riza's attempted privacy about the status of their relationship has gone out the window, to say the least. They stand together holding hands next to the newly planted grave. They are discussing something, quickly and quietly, and I think it's a bad time to interrupt, but, of course, Ed marches forward anyway.

"Principal Mustang," Ed says.

Roy looks down at him. "Hey there, Elric." He doesn't look at all angry that Ed had cut off his conversation. In fact, he doesn't look like anything at all. His eyes are frighteningly empty.

Ed's brow is screwed up, as if sympathizing with the principal is the hardest thing that he's ever done. "We just wanted to say… Er, well…"

"We can't even begin to understand how hard this is for you," Al cuts in. "But we just wanted to say it anyway – we are really sorry for your loss."

Riza looks at us, and for once, her steady, strong eyes seem to waver. "Alphonse, it's your loss, too. Remember that." She grasps Roy's elbow tightly. "But thank you anyway."

Roy musters up a smile that's more like an awful grimace, but at least his emotionless face has changed slightly. "Yeah, I appreciate it, kids." He draws in a deep breath.

"You can come to us at school if you need to. You know, if…"

"If you want to talk," Riza tacks on awkwardly.

Ed looks deflated, like a punctured balloon. "Yeah, thanks." He then turns to Al and me. "Let's go–"

An enormous shadow suddenly looms overhead, and we all stop in our tracks.

"Would you boys happen to be Edward and Alphonse Elric?"


	6. The General

**Chapter Six**

**The General**

_There was a decorated general with a heart of gold_

_That likened him to all the stories he told_

_Of past battles won and lost and legends of old_

_A seasoned veteran in his own time_

* * *

"Would you boys happen to be Edward and Alphonse Elric?" asks the shadow in what I can only describe as the kind of voice that would be perfect on the radio – warm, rich, and low, but with a professional manner and perfectly clear enunciation.

That voice belongs to a man that we all immediately recognize. He's of middling age, with a handsome square face full of laughter lines and topped by carefully slicked-back hair as dark as a Xingese person's. Beneath only one of his commanding eyebrows is an apple-green eye – where the other would be is a thick black eyepatch.

"Fuhrer Bradley," Roy murmurs, inclining his head respectfully. His sharp eyes are lost in the shadows of his hat's brim.

When Riza copies his gesture, Al and I quickly follow along. I'm sure my mouth is gaping wide open.

_So this is what being starstruck is like._

But Ed… Ed remains defiantly upright, and I can tell that Roy wants to punch him in the gut, but he's refraining, because principals aren't supposed to do that to their students.

"How did you know?" he asks. He sounds neutral, but from the way his hands, both prosthetic and flesh, are balled into fists at his sides, I can tell that he's upset. About what, I have no idea. Personally, I feel very honored, and then I feel annoyed, because Ed is being quite blatantly dumb.

The next question comes as, "Why are you here?" I brace myself for Ed's arrest on account of rudeness to the ruler of Amestris, but then I realize–

_Al? Sweet, polite, civil Al, mouthing off at _Bradley_?_

The Fuhrer looks taken aback, and rightly so. "Well, son, Maes Hughes fought in my war. He was a fair soldier and a good man. And he had served me on my cabinet as Chief Financier for the past few years. I thought it appropriate to pay my respects by attending his funeral."

"And I'm sure he would thank you for that," Roy tacks on politely.

"Yes, yes, Mustang." Bradley reaches up to stroke his broad chin thoughtfully.

He then turns to me, and I feel rooted to the spot, paralyzed by his light, bright gaze and his royal presence. "And who are you, Miss?"

"My name is Winry Rockbell," I practically whisper.

The Fuhrer looks at me carefully. "Urey and Sara Rockbell were your parents." It isn't a question, but rather a statement. "Yet another brave pair who met an unfairly untimely fate."

I can only nod.

He turns back to the boys, scrutinizing them. I can't explain why they look so worked-up. Al's amber eyes are narrowed, and I can see a muscle jumping in Ed's forehead.

_What is going on with those two?_

"Elrics," he says finally. "I expect great things from you two."

Then, with a nod of his head and a swish of his long black coat, which he has not removed even in the day's growing heat, he disappears down the hill.

* * *

"You guys were really rude back there," I comment tartly as we walk home. Granny had also attended, but she'd left early. She can't stand funerals. I think watching your only son being buried forever does that to a person.

Neither of them pay any attention to me. They've shut me out, turned their backs to me. Their heads are together, harried whispers closing the space between them–

"Hey! I'm talking to you–"

Ed whips around so quickly, his long ponytail hits his brother in the face. "Shut it, Winry. We know what we did. Quit jabbering at us, you aren't our mo–"

Al thumps his brother on the shoulder, glaring at him. "Leave her alone, Brother. This isn't her fault, it's natural that she wants to know–"

But the damage has been done. I leave them behind on the baking dusty road, and despite the fact that Granny's house is in plain sight, I feel even more alone than I had before.

* * *

It's nearly midnight, but I can't fall asleep. No matter how I close the curtains, the moon still shines persistently across my face. I feel clammy, like I have the flu, and my sleep shirt is soaked with sweat.

I decide to take my temperature. No use getting sick on Monday. Now that college applications are looming even closer, my greatest fear is missing a day of school.

_Scratch that, actually,_ I think to myself as I slip out from under the covers and pull a pair of gym shorts on over my underwear. I pad across my room and reach for the doorknob. _My new greatest fear is not knowing what's going on with those two idiots–_

The door twists open without me. "Winry?"

"Hhhh!" I fly back from the handle like it's burned me. "What the fu–" I fall like a statue to the hardwood floor.

"Winry!" A tall silhouette flies to my side. "Are you okay?"

It's Alphonse. I sigh and take his proffered hand, and he pulls me back to my feet.

"Yeah, I'm okay. But I think I just bruised my butt."

"Ummm…"

"Never mind." I go to sit back down on my bed; Al sinks into my desk chair, but not before carefully checking for any loose gears or wires. One time, when we were little, he sat down on a spark plug that had been lying out on my carpet. Evidently, he hasn't forgotten.

"Why are you still awake?"

He just looks at me. Opens his mouth. Reconsiders. "Um, well…"

"Just spit it out, Al," I say tiredly. "I'm sick of being stuck in the dark." In the blazing moonlight, I can tell that his eyes look saddened, so I stand up and pull him onto my bed. We sit cross-legged facing each other, just like we used to do when we were kids.

"You can't repeat any of this," he begins, twisting his fingers together and avoiding my eyes.

"I pinky swear," I say solemnly, sticking out said finger.

He gives a short laugh, which makes me feel a bit better. "Okay, pinky swear." He twines his finger with mine, lets go, and leans in. Naturally, I lean in, too.

"Look, Winry. Ed and I… Things are happening in Central. Things that we're worried about. Roy's worried, too. Even out here in the country, people are beginning to notice."

"Notice… what?"

He plows on. "Maes Hughes's death wasn't just some random hit and run. We think that he was murdered. And we're beginning to put together the pieces."

Our foreheads are nearly touching. I take a deep breath, wondering which of my millions of questions I should ask him next.

I decide on, "Do you think you know who the murderer is?"

"You're not going to like this–"

The light switch flips on, and the moonlight disappears altogether. I stifle a scream, not wanting to wake anyone else up–

"Brother!" Al exclaims, clearly surprised. "I thought you were asleep!"

Ed looks really, really angry, even more so than he had at Mr. Hughes's funeral. His eyes are narrowed into golden slits, and his hands rest on his hips, which are decidedly naked. I try really hard not to stare at his arms, his chest, his... Ugh. I can't help it.

I desperately hope that my fiery blush isn't as obvious as it feels.

"Well, I'm not now," Ed answers, or rather, hisses.

My eyebrows fly up in surprise. _What's his deal?_

He looks between Al and me and says, "What are you two doing in here?"


	7. Chemicals React

**Chapter Seven**

**Chemicals React**

_You make me feel, out of my element_

_Like I'm walking on broken glass_

_Like my world's spinning in slow motion_

_And you're moving too fast_

* * *

Life can be awkward sometimes. Every teenage girl knows it. Life is awkward like getting your period in white jeans, like having a coughing fit in the middle of class, like your cell phone ringing in the middle of the movie theater because you forgot to silence it.

Actually, none of those things are awkward. They're just embarrassing. Maybe I've never actually felt true awkwardness before today.

Because yes, I'm currently in the middle of awkward. Queen of Awkward Land, reigning from her awkward capital of Awkward City. Welcome to my awkward castle.

I bet you're wondering, why all of this… Okay, I won't use that word again. It's becoming pretty meaningless in my head. Well, the truth of the matter is, Ed and I had (stupidly) picked each other to be year-long lab partners in third period Physics.

And right now, we're sitting in said class, each of us desperately trying not to make eye contact with the other, which is sort of impossible, seeing as we're supposed to be measuring the velocity of different marbles rolling down an incline. As a pair. Together.

Oh, why hadn't I partnered up with Paninya in the beginning of the year?

_As if you knew back then that he would spend all his time ignoring you,_ I internally scoff.

Ed's hand accidentally brushes mine, and I let go of the marble way too early. His fingers, unprepared, fail to catch the small sphere, this one made of glass. It audibly clatters to the floor and bounces away across the lab room's white tiles. A few of my classmates look up, including Paninya. Her eyes narrow, watching my face, which I'm sure is as red as a fire engine about now.

I give her a infinitesimal shrug and dive after the marble, hoping all the while that I don't accidentally moon anyone with my so-called tiny miniskirt. That would be embarrassing.

The marble has rolled all the way across the classroom and settled next to Paninya's foot. I bend down to pick it up, and at the same time, she drops her pencil. She pulls me down beneath the table and asks in a harsh whisper, "What's going on between you and Ed, anyway?"

"Hey, Paninya, shouldn't we keep working–" begins her lab partner, a mousy girl who looks oddly familiar.

"Shut it, Sheska. I'm trying to hold a conversation here–"

"Miss Cranz and Miss Rockbell. What's going on?" I can see Mr. Havoc's shiny dress shoes coming down the aisle towards us.

Paninya shoves me out from beneath the black topped table at an astonishing speed. We stand up together, and she holds up her pencil in the air like a victory flag.

"Nothing, sir. I dropped my pencil." All eyes turn to us, waiting to see what will happen next.

Our Physics teacher eyes her suspiciously. He's never liked her very much, and I highly suspect it has something to do with her embarrassing him in front of Miss Sult a few weeks ago (she'd rather loudly pointed out that he had tucked his uniform sweater vest into his underwear).

"Seriously, she dropped her pencil," I say, trying to help her out. "And I was trying to catch my marble."

"Hmph." Our Physics teacher turns away, as well as the rest of the class. "Keep on working, you two."

I let out a slow breath and begin walking back to my table, but Paninya firmly catches at my elbow. I try to pull away, but then she whispers in my ear, "We need to talk. I'm coming over to your house after school."

I nod and keep walking, nearly tripping once I reach the fog of awkward surrounding our desk.

* * *

Running laps in gym class helps to calm me down, which may seem counterintuitive, but it really does. After all, there's nowhere to go but forward, and the artificial orange loop never ends.

I notice that I'm pounding too hard, so I try to lighten my stride, taking my knees into consideration, where my heel strikes the pavement. The late September wind is strong today, and it echoes harshly in my ears, whipping away all feeling. _Fall is coming._

I try to empty my mind. _Just concentrate. Put one foot in front of the other._

And for forty-five minutes, Edward Elric does not cross my mind.

* * *

Paninya has taken Al's spot on my bed, but a late afternoon sunbeam shines down on her face instead of a shaft of moonlight. We sit criss-cross with notebooks on our laps and a physics textbook in between us, trying to decipher special relativity with little success.

Finally, Paninya breaks the silence and drops her notebook to the floor with a slap that makes me wince. "Oh, c'mon, Win! Let's just ask Ed for help! We both know he can do this stuff, he's way smarter than he looks–"

"No," I answer shortly, stopping her in her tracks. "No. I refuse to talk to him until he apologizes."

"For… what?"

"Shutting me out."

"Wait… that's what this is all about? Isn't that, you know, kind of…" She trails off.

"Kind of _what_?" I almost hiss.

She throws up her hands in front of her like a shield. "Kind of… petty?"

I toss my notebook to the floor as well, gesturing widely. "No! No, it isn't! Those two show up here after a year without any explanation at all. They tell me they still want me around, but then they keep secrets from me. They keep whispering about something, and the best part of it all is, Al was about to tell me what's up! And then his stupid, idiot brother came in and interrupted, as if letting me know what's going on is the worst thing in the world!"

Paninya's looking at me oddly, and I realize that I'm breathing pretty heavily. I sigh, and my arms fall somewhat reluctantly into my lap.

"Sorry. That wasn't directed at you. I'm just…"

"Frustrated?"

"Yeah, that's it. I just can't stand it when people refuse to tell me what's going on. I know that sounds childish, but I just want to be a part of things. You know?"

She gives me a sympathetic side hug. "I get it."

"Really?" I wonder.

"Yeah, I do. When I first began wearing my prosthetics, kids used to bully me all the time. They used to call me No-Legs, Robot Girl… They treated me like I wasn't a person anymore. And I really resented Dominic for awhile because of it.

"So one night, I asked him why he had saved my life. I told him he shouldn't have, because no one wanted me around anymore. Everyone talked to me like I didn't belong, that I shouldn't even be around."

I feel a lump welling up in my throat. I had never known this about her before – everyone loves Paninya, despite her remarkable ability to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. She's outgoing, athletic, and intelligent, and many people look up to her. Who could've guessed that only a few years ago, she hadn't been this person at all? I'm her best friend, and even I hadn't known.

"What did he say to you?" I ask in a slightly creaky tone.

"Well, he told me that he needs me. And then he said, 'fuck those kids, Paninya. You're better than the whole bunch, and someday, they'll realize that and regret treating you like this. You'll see. And I'll beat up the little shits who don't.'"

I can't decide whether to cry over Dominic's wisdom or laugh at his usage of expletives. "He didn't really say the f-word in front of you... did he?"

She looks at me, and I look back at her, and then we burst out laughing. I only just catch her before she slides right off my covers, and this makes us laugh even more.

The door slams open, and an indignant looking Ed appears. I immediately stop, but Paninya keeps on going when she sees his ridiculous expression.

"What are you hyenas going off about? I'm trying to study!"

"So are we," Paninya counters around a stifled giggle. "Want to join up?"

Ed's metal fingers freeze around the doorframe. "Well…" Suddenly, we're looking at each other, for real, for the first time since Mr. Hughes's funeral.

_Mr. Hughes,_ I think with a shock. _Mr. Hughes loved everyone, no matter what they did or how they acted. He saw right through all that. Just like Dominic, he was always looking for the good. He was smart enough to put aside the bad. He was smart enough to forgive._

_Screw it,_ I think. I unfold myself from the bed and cross the carpet patch. I place my hand on top of Ed's, and I can't help but notice how warm the metal is. Then, before I really register the shock on his face, I wrap my arms around his waist and lean in.

"I understand now," I whisper in his ear, and then squeeze him even tighter. "Sorry."

He's totally frozen beneath me, and I'm about to back away, but then his real arm comes to rest at my hip, and he whispers back, "Don't apologize, it's not like you did anything wrong… I promise, we'll figure this out–"

There's a cough. "Want me to leave you two alone?"

_Paninya!_ I jump back from Ed with a start, but reluctantly so. His arm around me makes up for everything, and I can't believe I have to let that go.

His eyes search my face for a moment, and then he says, "Okay."

"Okay… what?" I ask with a slight tremble in my voice.

"Okay, I'll come study with you." He disappears from the entrance, and Paninya falls back on my bed with a cackle.

"You should've seen his face! It's like he's never touched a girl before!"

"Cut. It. Out," I hiss, ducking down to retrieve our notebooks in order to hide my wildfire blush.


	8. Heart Skipped a Beat

**Chapter Eight**

**Heart Skipped a Beat**

_The more I see, the more I understand_

_But sometimes, I still need you_

* * *

Answers finally come to me, although not in the way that I (or anyone else, for that matter) expect. And after all is over, I don't know if I've been left for worse or for better, because suddenly, it seems as if everything has begun to unravel.

* * *

It's the beginning of October now, and the entire world seems intent on knocking me down. Between the gale-force winds and the knowledge that my MIT interview is just around the corner, I can't seem to stay upright, whether physically or mentally.

My guidance counselor, Mr. Fuery, is always well-intentioned, but his obvious inexperience manifests itself in his general clumsiness. Seriously, that man has a penchant for breaking everything he comes into contact with.

Today, halfway through my ten o'clock appointment (luckily scheduled during P.E.), he manages to get his tie stuck in his paper shredder. Suddenly, an audible clunking and shuddering noise rises above his groans and occasional apologies. I grab his arm, and together, we manage to tug the tie out of the shredder's hungry teeth, but not before it's taken a considerable chunk out of the fabric.

"Sorry about that, Winry–"

With a sound like a firework taking off, the shredder explodes into a haze of billowing smoke.

"Kain, what the hell–" Riza appears, thank God, with a fire extinguisher in hand. White foam rushes from the nozzle, covering everything in sight… including my application paperwork. Together, the three of us stare at the mess in two parts shock and horror.

"I never would've guessed that paper shredders were so dangerous," Mr. Fuery ventures, voice faltering.

"Must have been an electrical short-out," Riza sighs. "I have no idea how these things work.

"And as for danger," she continues, "you're only a danger to yourself, Kain. I'll get Denny on the line and ask him to send for a custodian."

That's when Roy appears in the doorway of Mr. Fuery's tiny office. At first, I think he's about to reprimand the poor guidance counselor, but then I notice how… _upset_ he looks. It's strange, because that's never been an emotion I associated with him.

"Hawkeye… I need to talk to you for a moment."

Riza seems to notice it, too. Her eyes widen slightly, taking in the principal, whose normally cool and collected composure has utterly vanished. His tie has disappeared, his hair is unkempt, and he's as out of breath as a person who has just run a marathon.

"Okay," is all she says, albeit very quietly. So quietly, I wonder if I imagine it.

"Nice to see you, Winry," she adds more loudly. "Good luck on your interview."

I give her a slight nod, and the two disappear from the office.

"Well," begins Mr. Fuery with a slight cough. "Let's try to get back to business… Oh, what a mess."

"It's alright," I say, as reassuringly as I can. "But…" I point to my now-foamy application.

He seems to immediately understand. "Don't worry, Winry. The papers are just a formality at this point. We set up a database this summer that inputs everything electronically, which helps to speed up the Common Application anyway. All of your files are safe."

I breathe out a sigh of relief. "That's good to hear."

"So…" He pulls over a trashcan and tries collecting the foam in his arms and depositing it there. "Your first choice is MIT? That's an American school, isn't it?"

"Yes," I respond, watching his unsuccessful efforts. "Aren't you not supposed to touch that stuff?"

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline, and he drops the foam immediately… right into his lap.

"Should I come back another time?"

"No, no! It's okay! I, uh... Let's just finish this. Your interview is on October twentieth over Skype?"

"Yeah," I answer. My hands tremble slightly, and I already know that I won't be sleeping well the night before.

"Alright, I trust you'll be ready. I noticed that you submitted your main application essay as well." He looks conflicted as he adds, "Is it all really true?"

I know what he means, and I don't want to talk about it with him, even though that's what he's here for. So all I say is, "I wouldn't make that up, Mr. Fuery."

"O-of course!" he immediately replies. "I'm… I'm very sorry, Winry."

I just shrug.

"Well, if you have any more questions, I'm happy to answer them."

"No, it's okay," I say hurriedly. Suddenly, I really want to get out of there. "I'm meeting with you next month again anyway, right?"

"Yes! You are! Do you want me to send a reminder–"

There's a harsh knock at the door, and I nearly fall out of my seat.

"Custodial services. Open up." The man on the other side of the door, however, doesn't even wait for a welcome, and enters the office on his own accord.

"Whoa," he comments, seeming almost pleased by the mess. "Nice."

"I think I'm going to go. Have a good rest of your day, Mr. Fuery."

He doesn't even seem to hear as the custodian begins untangling some kind of nozzle device from a large air tank on wheels, so I finally duck out into the main office, hugging my books tight to my chest as a form of protection–

–and bump straight into Fuhrer Bradley.

"Miss Rockbell!" he exclaims in pleasant surprise. "Good to see you again!"

I can't form a single coherent thought, so I just nod as quickly as possible.

"I've been trying to track down your principal, but I can't find that man anywhere! Would you happen to know where he is?"

I snap out of it and point down the hallway, hoping I sound more confident as I say, "The last door on the left. He's in a meeting with Vice Principal Hawkeye right now."

"Even better! I want to talk with them both, actually." He smiles widely. "Thank you very much for your help, Miss Rockbell."

"Of course," I respond, smiling in return. "Good-bye," I add on quickly, and then I bow my head politely because it seems right. "Have a nice day!"

And with that, I finally escape the main office.

* * *

"You look kinda shook up," Paninya comments over her Pad Thai. She slurps a noodle thoughtfully. "Did your guidance meeting go well?"

We're eating our lunches outside on the green enclosed by the track circle, trying to soak in the last bit of sunshine before it disappears forever. The wind has died down, which makes me feel a lot better, because I don't feel like my face is being scorched off anymore. Not one of the nicest sensations.

"Yeah, I guess. It involved a lot of smoke, a fire extinguisher, and an encounter with the Fuhrer." I bite into my turkey and mustard sandwich, reveling in the taste of Granny's homemade sourdough bread. There's nothing like it in the entire world. "Oh, and my MIT interview did come up once."

"The _Fuhrer_!" Out of everything, that's the detail she latches on to, with an awestruck look on her face. "Wow! What was he doing here?"

"Wanted to see Roy and Riza," I respond around my food. I gulp it down to quickly then, and it feels like my chest is going to explode.

"Medic! Medic!"

She throws me her half-finished water bottle, and I chug it like there's no tomorrow. I then proceed to collapse onto the grass and let out a loud belch.

"Smooth," says a new voice.

"Ed!" I sit up violently, and he begins to laugh. He then crouches down next to me and gently raises a hand towards my face. I stiffen, not knowing what to expect, but all he does is swipe his real thumb across my cheek. The heat transfer disappears all too quickly for my liking.

"You had some white stuff," he says by way of explanation.

"Yummy," says Paninya from somewhere next to me.

"Shut up, Paninya–"

"I was talking about the Pad Thai!"

* * *

We begin the walk home together, trying to beat the rain that's suddenly appeared overhead in the form of ominous gray and black clouds.

_Good-bye forever, sun,_ I think woefully.

"Where's Al?" I ask.

"He's trying out for the basketball team," Ed grumbles.

"Why's that a problem?"

"Too tall…"

I giggle. "Oh, get over it. You're taller than him–"

"For _now_," he counters fiercely. "And only just barely."

I think back to our encounter on the field. "Why were you skipping Calc, anyway?"

"Okay, _Mom_, don't be like that. Roy pulled me out of class for a few minutes, and by the time we finished talking, the period was almost over."

I blister at my new nickname. "Why would he do that?"

His face darkens, his golden eyes narrow. As per usual lately, he doesn't respond.

"Hmph." I cross my arms over my chest, feeling both annoyed and defeated. "Does this belong under the ever-expanding category of 'things-we-can't-tell-Winry?'"

"Have you ever considered why we're trying to avoid telling you?" he suddenly asks, quite calmly.

"No… I guess not." I grab his hand, the metal one, without thinking. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting to know."

He looks down at our connected hands, and I'm surprised when he doesn't pull away. "The truth can be dangerous, Winry."

"Oh, stop being a drama queen–"

"I'm not." He says it with such serious finality that I can't help but believe him.

"I'm not."

Suddenly, the skies tear open, and what seems like a year's worth of rain drenches us, effectively cutting off the conversation. I release his hand, running across the hill towards home as quickly as possible.

I don't check to see if he's following.


	9. I Saw

**Chapter Nine**

**I Saw**

_And if I told you, that I'm sorry_

_Would you tell me that you were wrong_

_Or would you hold me down forever_

_If I came to you for answers_

* * *

The next morning, on October third, an assembly is called. One thousand, nine hundred and ninety-eight students dressed in white, navy, and green file confusedly into RCH's cavernous auditorium, but Edward and Alphonse Elric are nowhere to be seen.

Paninya notices, too. "Huh. I wonder where those two went. Ed was in homeroom this morning, we were talking about Halloween…"

I cross my arms over my chest and slump lower in my seat. "Screw Halloween. Actually, screw _him_."

She bumps my shoulder playfully, mischief sparkling in her night-dark eyes. "Well, everyone knows you want to!"

I make a highly inelegant noise in response. "Paninya! Would you cut it out–"

The harsh sound of microphone static screeches through the acoustically-tuned air, and people all around me rush to cover their ears. As it dies down, I cautiously take my hands away.

"Hey, there's Principal Mustang!" Paninya points towards the dim stage. "But where's…" She trails off, confused.

I follow her gaze and find that, yes, Riza is missing from her permanent place at his side. "I don't think I've ever seen one without the other," I say to Paninya.

Paninya shrugs, but she looks concerned. "Maybe she's sick?"

The stage lights brighten and refocus, illuminating four people standing on the stage. To the right, I recognize Roy, who, if possible, looks even worse for wear than he did yesterday, and Miss Sult, standing on the far left. However, the two people in between them are utterly unfamiliar – one has a strangely androgynous appearance, his shoulder-length black hair contrasting greatly with his straight figure, and the other is extremely tall, with his dark hair gelled into spikes and a flinty look in his eyes.

"That's Mr. Nevy, my homeroom teacher," Paninya says by way of explanation. "The guy right next to Miss Sult."

I openly stare. "Not gonna lie, I couldn't tell if he was a man or a woman."

"He's the drama instructor," Paninya says. "I think he likes maintaining a fluid appearance."

"Do you know who the guy next to Roy is?"

"Haven't got a clue."

Roy has taken the microphone in his hands, and a hush falls over the sea of students. "Good morning, RCH," he croaks. Even from my seat towards the back, I can tell that his eyes look horribly bloodshot. "I have a very important… announcement.

"To my left is Mr. Edger, who has been brought down to RCH as our new vice principal–"

The auditorium explodes into frenzied whispers. Paninya and I stare at each other in shock.

"Where's Vice Principal Hawkeye?" shouts a girl in the front row.

To my surprise, the man named Mr. Edger grabs the microphone right out of Roy's hands. Even more surprising, Roy doesn't even resist, as if he doesn't care at all.

"Riza Hawkeye has been promoted to the position of principal at Central Academy in Central City," Mr. Edger explains in a buttery voice that immediately rubs me the wrong way. "It is a great honor. She was selected by Fuhrer Bradley himself!"

The whispers break out again, and it sounds as if the strong October breezes have infiltrated the auditorium itself.

"Students! I can assure you that your school year will continue on just as planned." He flashes us a blindingly-white smile. "On the behalf of my fellow newcomers, Miss Sult and Mr. Nevy, we hope that you will stay just as open-minded and accepting of new ideas and opinions as before."

I wait for him to add something like, "In your academics" or "From your classmates," but it seems as if his speech has finished.

Mr. Edger hands the microphone back to Roy as if he never stole it from his hands in the first place. Roy looks out at the assembled crowd, but I don't think he's really seeing us. It's like we're not even here.

"Assembly dismissed. Go to your next class."

* * *

Coach Armstrong is strangely absent from P.E. today, but I dress out anyway and head for the track, figuring it's a good idea to get in some practice. Try-outs for the winter season are soon, and I haven't been spending nearly enough time on conditioning.

_If I want that captainship, I'm going to really have to work for it,_ I muse.

The winds have died down, but the sky is just as stormy as ever. I crouch down in front of the starting block, take a deep breath, and–

"Winry!"

"Hhhh!" I fall over and manage to scrape both of my knees on the springy orange pavement.

"Here," says someone from overhead, and I realize it's Alphonse. I take his proffered hand and stand up, inspecting my knees beneath my navy and white shorts.

He notices the cuts. "Sorry about that," he mumbles bashfully, rubbing a hand across his reddening neck.

"Hey, it's cool," I sigh. I then remember what Ed told me yesterday, so I say, "How'd basketball team tryouts go?"

Al's eyes light up. "I made varsity! I couldn't believe it!"

His happiness is infectious, and I tackle him with a hug. "Amazing! You're really something, huh?"

He laughs. "Aw, thanks!" He lightly punches me on the shoulder, a thoughtful look suddenly emerging in his eyes.

"Have you seen my brother anywhere?"

I think back to the brothers' absence in the auditorium. "No," I respond, totally confused. "I thought he was with you. You know, when you skipped the assembly." It slips out as accusatory.

He frowns at me. "Ah… no. Actually, I was recruited by the guidance department to show some new students around the school."

I feel embarrassed by my skepticism, but I plow on with, "New students? _Now_?"

"Yeah, they're from overseas. Apparently there was a mix-up with their passports, so they were only allowed into the country a week ago."

"Where are they from?" I wonder.

"Xing, actually!"

"Oh," I blink. "Why would Xingese students want to come to school in Amestris?"

"You know, that's a reasonable question, but I didn't want to pry. Two of them are seniors, but one of them is a junior, like me. She's in my AP Language class, actually. She even speaks fluent Amestrisian, and she's really good at comprehensive questions–"

I can't help but notice that Al looks just as excited as he did when he was discussing his successful basketball tryout. I know I'm being immature as I interrupt him with a sustained, "Oooo! Sounds like Alphonse has a bit of a crush!"

He turns as red as the setting sun. "Wh-what! That's crazy!"

"What's this smarty-pant's name?" I ask with a giggle.

"M-May," he says, stumbling slightly over her name.

I place a hand on his shoulder. "Well. I would absolutely _love_ to meet this May sometime."

His blush deepens, if possible, and he doesn't respond.

Suddenly, a large crack of thunder echoes overhead, and my body no longer feels adequately warmed by my track uniform. "Oh, boy. Let me go change, and then maybe we can get lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan," he responds. We walk back across the field towards the locker room entrance, but right as I'm about to pull open the door, he stops me, a hand on my arm.

"Winry… Would you actually mind looking for Brother right now? I'm worried about him, and you know how it's that time of year again…"

"Wh–"

It all rushes back in a torrential flood.

_Silky brown hair, come undone from a ponytail, scattered across a frighteningly pale face that would never smile again. Urgent knocks on Granny's door, quickly followed by silent tears in the night. A sunset on the hillside and the darkness of a gravestone overshadowing the faces of two boys who no longer looked like themselves. Then a roaring fire, so thirsty that even a hurricane couldn't put it out._

_And then, a good-bye with no explanation, and the back of a red coat vanishing into the distance._

"It's the anniversary, isn't it?"

Alphonse only nods, looking far away.

"Okay. I'll go after him."

* * *

I round a corner absentmindedly, wondering where the hell Ed could've gone. I can think of a few spots, but none of them are at the school. And if Paninya saw him this morning, he would still be here… right?

That's when I walk straight into a boy that I've never seen before.

"Sorry, I–"

"It is no problem," he responds. His Amestrisian is perfect, yet there's an unfamiliar lilt to his accent. His eyes are coal-black and narrow, his dark hair slicked back into a ponytail not unlike Ed's, but much shorter. Most remarkable of all is his shockingly yellow blazer, proudly disobeying RCH's strict dress code. At first, I wonder if he even goes here, but then I remember Al.

"Are you from Xing?" I ask. A split second later, I realize that might have been far too forward.

However, he seems delighted. "Yes, I am!" He sweeps into a ridiculously low bow, and I have no idea what to do.

He stands right back up and takes my hand, looking me straight in the eye. "I am Ling Yao, Prince of Xing! And you, young lady…" He lowers his voice and wiggles his thin eyebrows.

"You are quite beautiful. You must be a princess!"

I don't even have time to blush. "I… uh…" I stutter. That's when I notice a girl standing slightly a ways off, her eyes and high ponytail just as dark as the prince called Ling Yao. She's very slight and short, but for some reason, I get the feeling that she could pack a powerful punch.

"I'm Winry," I say when I regain my voice. I shake his hand, still clutching at mine. I try to let go of him without being rude, but he just isn't having it. I resign myself to it, because if he's really a prince, I don't want to take the chance of offending him.

"Um… What's your name?" I ask in the direction of the silent girl. I suddenly get a strong impression that she's like the Riza to his Roy, although I don't know where it comes from.

"I am Lan Fan," she answers in a voice as cold and clear as a bell. "I am the Prince's bodyguard."

"Bodyguard…?"

"Where are you going, Princess Winry?" asks Prince Ling Yao.

I can't help but giggle at the way he pronounces my name. "Um, well, I'm looking for a friend. But I don't know where he is."

"Come, Lan Fan!" shouts the Prince imperiously, causing me to jump. "Let us find Princess Winry's boyfriend!"

My eyes widen, comically I'm sure. "He's not my boyfriend–"

"Where are you supposed to be?" asks a new voice. I turn around, suddenly feeling colder than I had a moment before.

It's Mr. Edger, the new vice principal. He looks even taller and more imposing than he had on stage this morning.

I gulp audibly. "I-I was just…" I turn back towards the Prince and Lan Fan, but…

…they've vanished!

"Going down to lunch," I finish.

"Well, get going," he admonishes. "Students shouldn't be running loose around the corridors while classes are in session. I'd hate to see you land in my office, Miss Rockbell."

In a staccato flurry of dress shoe heel taps, Mr. Edger walks off towards the main office, and I let out a restrained breath.

It's only as I hurry down towards the cafeteria, desperate to avoid him for the rest of eternity, that I realize that I had never told him my name.


	10. Sweater Weather

**Chapter Ten**

**Sweater Weather**

_Just us, you find out_

_Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about_

* * *

For the first time all year, I'm alone after school – Paninya has a parent-teacher conference, Al has a scrimmage, and Ed is _still_ nowhere to be found. That's partly my fault, because after my run-in with creepy Mr. Edger, there was no way I'd be caught out in the hallway by myself again. But I know that I need to uphold my promise to Al, and honestly, I'm starting to get really worried.

I can think of an entire list of places where he could be, especially on a day like today, but all of them aren't at school, and if he had been here this morning, there's no way he could've left. I hesitate next to his locker, wondering if I should just try and call him, but he's notorious for leaving his phone off.

_I need help, _I realize. _I need someone like…_

I shake my head. _No use going down that street. After all, Roy said it himself – she's gone._

_Roy! Of course!_

I dash down the hallway, practically praying all the while that Mr. Edger won't be lurking around in the main office, although this seems pretty unlikely.

I skid around the doorframe to the office lobby, where three women and two men sit conversing over the low walls of a four-desk cube farm. The two school security guards – Maria Ross and Denny Brosh – are there, as well as school secretary Rebecca Catalina, head librarian Vato Falman, and someone I don't recognize at all. She stands a little to the side, not quite joining in on the joking and laughter.

Suddenly, Miss Ross notices me lurking in the doorway. "Winry? What are you still doing here?"

"Need – to see – Roy," I pant, trying not to fall over. _Boy, am I out of shape._

Miss Ross's face darkens, and Mr. Brosh's last joke falls flat. Even the ever-smiling Miss Catalina wears a frown.

"Sorry, Winry," she says. "He's meeting with someone."

The woman I don't recognize flips her extremely long blond hair over her shoulder and makes a sound that I can only describe as a "harrumph." Her narrowed eyes are frighteningly icy and her full lips are intimidatingly pursed. Despite her sour look, she's very beautiful. She also reminds me greatly of someone I already know, although I can't quite place it.

"It's just the Elric boy. I don't understand why you can't interrupt them. They've been in there all day!"

_Elric. Edward. Edward Elric._

"Perfect," I whisper. "Just perfect."

Mr. Falman looks worried beneath his mop of graying hair. "Miss Rockbell–"

I don't even wait for them to let me in; I barge past a spluttering Mr. Brosh and make a run for Roy's office door at the end of the hallway.

I can't see her say it, but I swear that the blond woman says something like, "Now, why didn't I try that?"

* * *

I've become a bit of a rebel today, if I do say so myself, so when I reach Roy's door, I don't knock; I practically hurdle in and then slam the door behind me with an impressive crash. I hang onto the interior handle for dear life, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Winry?" Ed's voice comes from behind me, colored with disbelief.

I turn around slowly. "Heeey."

_Wait. Someone's missing._

"Where's Roy?" And then–

"Where the _hell _have you been all day, Edward? Al was looking everywhere for you, and I was to, until that creep Mr. Edger–"

"We meet again, Miss Rockbell."

Like a villain from vaudeville, the new vice principal emerges from my blind spot in the corner of Roy's office.

* * *

There's a cautious knock at my door. "Winry?"

I'm lying facedown on my shaggy carpet square, and honestly, I wouldn't even care if the world ended right then and there. So I just shrug.

"Winry. We're coming in."

"Mmmph," I say to the carpet.

A gentle hand is placed on my shoulder. "Everything's going to be okay, Win," says Alphonse.

I grunt.

"It's just one detention."

I groan.

"C'mon, Winry! It's just one little, measly detention. MIT isn't going to care that you were charged with breaking and entering… and disregard of authority figures… and degrading language…"

"Hey, little bro. I'm starting to feel like reassuring people isn't your forte."

"No, it's okay," I try to say, but it comes out more like, "Buh, ess ucky."

I overhear some quiet whispering, and then the hand disappears from my shoulder, only to be replaced by another. This one's intent on lifting me out of my misery, both physically and mentally, but I think I put up a pretty good fight – I go as limp as a rag doll as it attempts to prop me up against the side of my bed.

I slump over, only to be caught by a sturdy shoulder. That's when I freeze, because it fully hits me that Ed's the one who picked me up, and Al has totally vanished.

Ed seems to have realized the exact same thing. I slowly look up towards his face to gauge his reaction, and our eyes meet, only to fly away rapidly from each other.

I sigh. And then I don't think too hard about any potential consequences, because I give into my semi-exhaustion and allow my head to fall straight into his lap.

"Oh," is all he says.

"Is this–"

"No, you're fine, it's just…" He hesitates, and it's like a slap in the face. I sit up wildly, almost banging my forehead against his, and I'm sure that my face has been replaced by a red-hot jalapeño pepper.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," I chant, trying my hardest not to think of what my head was on top of just a few seconds ago.

Of course, it doesn't work at all.

A nice-sized blush has settled across Ed's nose and cheeks, which makes him look even cuter than usual – _Stop! Stop! Stop!_

"No, it's okay, don't worry! Winry, seriously, it's not a big deal." Maybe I'm imagining it, but his voice sounds higher-pitched than usual. Then I notice that his hands have settled on my shoulders from behind, and once more, I feel like the entire world has stopped in its tracks.

"Uh…"

"Right," he begins.

I turn around to face him, very, very slowly. I'm afraid I'll scare him away, somehow, even though, to my knowledge, Ed isn't afraid of anything but milk.

Our faces are very close together then. Neither of us speak, just look at the other. His eyes, turned even lighter by the rays of sun streaming through the window, practically burn into mine.

_If I lean in,_ I think. _If I just lean in a little closer…_

When he breaks the extraordinarily tense silence, I imagine that it sounds just like the _Titanic_ scraping up against the fatal iceberg – an altogether unwelcome shock heard around the world.

"Here," he says about nothing in particular. He pushes me away to a safer distance, and for a childish moment, it feels even worse than watching little Elicia cry at her father's funeral. I suddenly feel strangely empty.

He won't look at me as he says, "Winry… Al and I came to a decision today."

I swallow drily. "Yeah?" I croak. "What's that?"

"We're going to tell you. About everything. But first…"

I'm stunned into silence. I have nothing to say – I just wait for him to finish.

"First, we need to talk to Roy."

I find my voice once more and ask what I've been wondering all along: "Why are you telling me now?"

"Well, you're in danger."

I laugh with no humor. "You already used that as an excuse _not_ to tell me."

He shakes his head, finally looking back at me, and his eyes are neither afraid nor angry, but _sad_. His eyes are wide and hollow, and sad.

"Before we were just guessing… But now, we're sure. We're in danger. In fact, everyone's in danger.

"And it's all my fault."


	11. Dashboard

**Chapter Eleven**

**Dashboard**

_Well, it would've been, could've been worse than you would ever know_

_Oh, the dashboard melted but we still have the radio_

_Oh, it should've been, could've been worse than you would ever know_

_Well, you told me about nowhere, well, it sounds like someplace I'd like to go_

* * *

"That day" has nearly come to a close. Roy Mustang sits at the head of Granny's worn-out dinner table, and I don't know what to think. They're finally going to tell me the truth. I should be pleased. I should be excited, even.

But all of the sudden, I'm absolutely terrified. Because if what Ed's saying is true, then in the next few minutes, my life might change forever.

Our principal looks even worse than he had this morning, when he had announced Riza's departure in front of the packed auditorium. He won't even look at us; he keeps his head firmly in his hands, and his elbows rest on the table's whorled surface. Looking at him, I suddenly think of Atlas, the titan damned to carry the entire world on his shoulders for the rest of eternity.

Granny's present at our meeting, too, and for the first time, I begin to wonder how much she knows, and how much she's been keeping from me. I feel slightly resentful about that.

_Do they not trust me? Do they think I can't take it? Will they lie to me, or water-down the truth?_

I shake my head vigorously, trying to get rid of those thoughts with all my might. They're just not worth having.

Al clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. "There's something you all need to know." Despite his usage of the plural, he seems to be looking straight at me, his gentle face lined with worry.

"Ed and I… Well, as you all know, we left Resembool a year ago today. We told ourselves we'd never forget why we did, and we haven't. But we soon discovered that no matter the physical distance, you can't shake the memories that you've already made, even if you try your hardest to leave them behind."

Ed is the only one who hasn't sat down at the table with us. He instead stands in the corner, looking out the broad windows at a moon that doesn't exist tonight. I can see his face by way of its reflection in the glass, but I can't make out his expression.

"A year ago today, Ed and I set our childhood home on fire. Mr. Mustang, you already know why we did this, but…" Suddenly, his eyes are pleading. They bear straight into mine.

"You need to understand! We had no idea what would happen! Please–"

Roy interrupts him with a voice rusty from disuse. "We understand that, Elric. Just continue."

"I…" He draws in a deep breath, slumping back into his seat. He looks totally defeated. "Okay."

Suddenly, Ed peels himself away from the window and comes to sit next down next to his little brother. He extends his metallic arm and whispers something into Al's ear. The latter nods slightly and sits back up a little straighter.

Ed speaks now, which surprises me. "Winry… Do you remember what you said to me on the first day of school?"

"You're going to have to be a _little_ more specific, Edward," I say, and it comes out much harsher than I'd intended.

"We were sitting together in gym class, and you told me that you found Miss Sult's appearance strange."

The memory of that conversation quickly resurfaces, but I'm no less confused. "What does my homeroom teacher have to do with any of this?"

"Do you think that _she_ is… strange?"

I wrinkle my nose, but I catch myself blushing. "Well…" I hesitate. "She is… strangely beautiful, I guess."

Nobody laughs at me for this, so I plow on: "But she seems like a normal human being to me."

"She isn't," Roy says shortly. It strikes me as strange, and I try to understand his odd expression – his dark eyes are narrow and fierce, a dramatic change from their prior emptiness.

"She isn't at all."

"What… is she like a supermodel or something?" I wouldn't be surprised if that's the truth at all, although I would be slightly confused as to why a supermodel would want to teach English at a country high school.

Roy chuckles humorlessly. "No, I mean, she isn't _human_."

It takes a second for that to register with me, and when it does, I begin to laugh it off. "Is this some kind of joke?" I ask, totally disbelieving. But as I look around the table at their utterly serious faces, my laughter dies away.

"Oh, c'mon, next you guys will be telling me she's an alien from outer space. Isn't it just a bit too early to be pulling April Fool's jokes?"

"We wish it was a joke, Winry," Al responds solemnly. "But it's really true. Miss Sult isn't human, or, at least, how you and I would define a human being. And neither is Mr. Nevy. In fact, we even suspect Mr. Edger–"

That third name convinces me much more, and the incredulous smile slides right off my face.

"Wait, so let's just pretend they _aren't_ human–"

"They aren't," Roy interrupts.

"Okay, but–"

"Why would we lie to you about this?" Ed suddenly thunders, and the entire room goes quiet.

"God, if you want to know everything so badly, aren't you going to give us a chance to explain?"

"Brother–"

"He's right," Granny says suddenly, her thin lips compressed to a hard line. "Winry, these boys are risking a lot for you right now by telling you the truth. Count your blessings now, before…" She trails off ominously, and I shiver slightly, despite the muggy, close heat of the post-dinner kitchen.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"It's okay," Ed replies in kind, looking somewhat apologetic, which is a stretch for him. "Just… listen. Okay? We're doing the best we can."

I take a deep breath and nod.

Al picks up where we left off. "Winry, you should know that Brother and I left home to live in Central on Principal Mustang's orders."

"Wh-why?" I ask, swinging my head in Roy's direction. He merely rolls his eyes.

"And you troublesome brats just _had_ to show back up again, didn't you?"

Ed ignores this. "He wanted us to do a bit of an investigation. See, Mr. Hughes was beginning to uncover some… _stuff_ while working for the Fuhrer. Documents that had passed through unknown hands, important forms lacking Bradley's signature, and a name that kept appearing everywhere."

"What name?"

"Um, well…" Al looks uncomfortable, and Ed turns away with a grunt.

"It was Hohenheim. Van Hohenheim."

"Your _dad_?" _Whoa. _"But… why? I thought he left the country! Went to America, or something!"

"Apparently not," Al says with a noncommittal shrug, although I can tell that he's just as bothered as I am.

"Unless someone's _using_ his name. We still don't know that it's him."

I look over at Granny, and her beady eyes are rock-hard beneath her round spectacles. _She was good friends with Hohenheim,_ I think, remembering. _She doesn't want him to be the bad guy._

_But is there even a bad guy?_ "What does this all mean, then?"

"Many of the papers passing through Hughes's office weren't even government-issued. Instead, they were all marked by something called the Homunculus Company. And our da – I mean, Hohenheim, he was listed as its chairman. The head executive."

I frown. "What does homunculus mean?"

"It's an ancient alchemic term. You know about alchemists, right?"

"Yeah, weren't they those crackpot medieval scientists? They wanted to make gold, extend their lives?"

Ed snorts loudly, making me jump a little in my seat. "Well, now, that's just rude!"

Al gives him a look. "Based on everything Hughes found… And we helped him do it, all throughout this past year. Based on everything…

"We think that this Homunculus Company is manufacturing fake human beings. And Hughes must've been caught investigating, so they had him–"

"Murdered," Roy interrupts, and takes a swig from a cup of something that looks too dark to be coffee. I wonder offhandedly where he got it.

"But why would they, er, _murder_ him for something like that?" Suddenly, the implications of what the brothers are telling me hit me full in the face.

"You think your dad murdered Mr. Hughes… don't you?"

"At least indirectly," Al murmurs, staring down at his tightly-clasped hands.

"Why…" I trail off. I think back, long ago, to the one day I spent with Van Hohenheim, before he disappeared from our lives forever.

_He'd taken us three to the park, and then bought us ice creams from a colorful truck. Later, when Ed and Al fell asleep, he'd given me Ed's cookie sandwich to finish and told me a fantastical story about his life as a young man in a distant land called Xerxes. I fell asleep, too, listening to him, and when I'd woken up…_

_He was gone._

"Your dad wouldn't do that," I say firmly, surprising myself. Granny perks up, looking interested. "He would never do that."

A shadow passes over Ed's face. "He abandoned us and our mom, Winry. And that's what killed her in the end, you know. Not the fainting spell, not the flu, but his own cruelty." He pauses briefly and looks to Al, but his brother won't meet his eyes.

"He's a bad man, Winry."

For awhile, we all sit in silence, and I listen to the infinite questions rolling around noisily in my head like the clattering of the numbered cubes in Granny's bingo spinner.

"So Principal Mustang sent you to Central because he wanted you to help Hughes dig for information," I begin, breaking the silence. I turn to Roy, and by the look of his red eyes, I'm becoming increasingly convinced that he is, in fact, drunk.

"Why would you do that?"

His answer surprises me greatly. "I want to take that bastard Bradley down, that's why."

"Fuhrer Bradley? That's crazy!"

"His name never came up anywhere, the whole time," Al reminds him gently. "He's innocent until proven guilty."

"Someone who orders a genocide isn't an innocent man, Elric."

"The Ishval War wasn't a genocide!" I protest. "They had weapons stockpiled! They were weeks away from invading us!"

Roy rolls his eyes and takes another swig. "I'm glad at least one of us pays attention to that asshole's bullshit propaganda."

"Hey–"

"We don't know if that's true, either," Ed comments with a frown. "But we do know that the Homunculus Company, whatever it is, means business."

There's one final question that refuses to budge, and I know that I need to ask it.

"So why are we all in danger, anyway?"

Ed slams his metal fist into the table, and with a tiny groan, a series of nuts and bolts spill from its beautiful interior.

"What the hell, Ed?" I exclaim angrily. "You realize how long that took me to finish, right?"

"Sorry," he replies, although he looks anything but. He rubs his jaw, and then asks, "Do you want me to answer your question or not?"

"Ugh," I say about nothing in particular.

He takes that as a yes. "Winry, you need to know why Al and I…"


	12. Giving Up the Gun

**Chapter Twelve**

**Giving Up the Gun**

_And though it's been a long time_

_You're right back where you started from_

_I see it in your eyes_

_That now you're giving up the gun_

* * *

_Winry, you need to know why Al and I... Well, why _I_ burned down our mom's house._

It's probably after midnight, and I even though I tried to go to bed right after Roy left, I couldn't sleep. So, like the insomniac I am, I hopped out my window, slid down the roof over the garage, and crossed the frosty yard to the shop. My grandfather built it years ago, right before he died of the same strain of flu that later killed Trisha Elric, for Granny to work on her prosthetics. It's an ugly tin structure shaped like a Quonset hut, but it's probably my favorite place in the world. After all, as Granny says, it's where the magic happens.

I had pulled on my worker's jumpsuit, which was a good move, because my only key is stashed inside one of its many pockets. I unlock the bottom of the door, and it slides up and away with a faint hiss. I hear Den bark from somewhere inside the dark house, and I stop in my tracks, but after a few moments, it's quiet once more.

I flick the switch hanging by the door, and the industrial overhead lamps shudder to life one by one, bathing the Quonset in a warm glow. The worktables are littered with all kinds of screws and gears, and mounds of scrap metal lie in haphazard heaps all over the concrete floors. I can see the beginnings of a project that looks somewhat like the special pistons shelled in carbon-fiber that give spring to Paninya's leg prosthetics, although these are in the shape of arms. Just by looking at them, I can see Dominic's influence.

I begin to sweat. The Quonset's always unbearably hot, even at night, because the sun does a good job of heating up its metal structure during the day. I plug in one of the fans, but it doesn't do much for my feverish skin. Because no one's around, I decide to strip down to just my bra, tying the sleeves of my jumpsuit around my waist as I peel the entire thing off my sticky torso.

I sit down next to the arm that Granny's in the process of constructing, suddenly feeling deflated. I came in here with one purpose only – to calm myself down. Working in the shop has always been a happy pastime for me. I've made so many memories within its metal confines. Spending time with Granny, learning how to properly use a wrench, building my first arm, wiring Ed's back together–

"Winry?"

_Speak of the devil._ For some reason, I'm not surprised at all that he turned up. I don't even turn around in my chair – I just wait for him to sit down next to me.

But he doesn't, so I'm forced to swivel around to face him. I can see nighttime behind him, broken up by a scattering of silvery stars and winds driving restlessly down the hillside's dry grasses.

"What do you want from me, Ed?" I ask, suddenly feeling brave. I don't even care that I'm nearly half-naked in front of him. The nighttime air is a blessed relief.

"What do you want from me?" I repeat.

"I want you," he answers simply, coming closer, a fire smoldering in his golden eyes.

"To what?"

"Nothing. I just want you." And suddenly, his face is right in front of mine, and I can't find enough air to breathe.

"I've always wanted you…" He leans in but passes my lips, mouth instead skimming down my neck, mouthing something across my jaw, haunting my face with feathery nothings. My chest feels tight, my thoughts scattered to the wind. He's pressing down on me, his chest nearly touching mine, and I can feel the sharp edge of the table chafing up against my exposed back.

It's so, so hot. His hands rest heavily on top of my shoulders, strong fingers kneading into my exposed collarbone, flesh on flesh–

_What?_

There's a crazed urgency in his touch. Suddenly, it begins to hurt, begins to raze, begins to burn. His lips finally meet mine, but there are no fireworks. There's no feeling in it, only passion, and it makes me feel sick.

"Ed, Edward, stop–"

The wall behind him seems to sag, the ceiling above spinning wildly, and something smells like smoke. Smoke, ash, death. Then, in a strange moment of clarity, a drop lands on my upturned forehead, searing the skin there. I can see it, dripping down the end of my nose like quicksilver.

More drops begin to fall, past me and onto the floor, burning holes into the concrete like it's Swiss cheese. _It's the ceiling,_ I realize. _The ceiling is melting._

Fires start all over the room, catching onto tables and chairs and piles of scrap metal. They blaze high without any fuel, reaching up to the eroding ceiling, and all the while, Ed keeps touching and feeling and _kissing_–

"Stop!" I scream, my lungs hoarse, and that's when I wake up in my bed, in my room, safe and sound.

* * *

It's the weekend, thank goodness. I don't know if I could've possibly sat through school today and made it out alive. Even in the warm light of day, my heart is still beating a rapid tattoo. I'm sitting outside on the porch, trying to soak up the healing sunlight as I wrestle with _Othello_, but my seemingly eternal struggle persists, and reading it makes me think about Miss Sult, which doesn't help at all.

"Winry?" asks a voice, soft and hesitant. I freeze, not daring to turn the page.

Edward Elric sits down next to me without really looking at me. His metal hand pushes a golden strand of hair behind his ear, and this reassures me, because the Edward in my dream didn't have any prosthetics at all.

Thinking of Dream Edward scares me even further, and it takes a lot of effort to push him back farther into the recesses of my messed-up mind. But I still can't ignore his presence, even if he had never been real.

Suddenly, I'm shocked by the image of his lips on mine, harsh and unyielding, and I feel like I'm going to throw-up.

_What does it mean?_ I wonder. _Ed wouldn't do that… would he? He wouldn't kiss me like that. _He_ isn't like that._

_As if he'd kiss you at all,_ scoffs a small voice at the back of my mind, and I swear that if I could, I'd punch it in its nonexistent face.

My copy of _Othello_ disappears from my slack hands. I cautiously turn towards Ed and study his face as his eyes skim the play's pages.

"Heavy stuff," he comments casually after some time, handing it back to me. I take it silently, waiting for him to continue. But he doesn't, so it's my turn.

"You aren't like Othello!" I blurt out suddenly, before I can keep it in.

He looks at me like that was the last thing he'd been expecting me to say.

"What?"

"You couldn't, er, I mean, you wouldn't, that is to say–"

"Kill someone?" I shudder slightly. "Or, kill myself?" he finishes, almost wryly.

I trail off, because for once in my life, I have nothing to say.

"You're wrong… but right." He looks contemplative, and I'm scared to even breathe, because I don't want to disrupt him.

"I don't _want_ to kill myself, but if the opportunity presents itself, where if I did, it would help someone, or even save their life… Yeah, maybe." I make a little noise in the back of my throat right then, and his eyes finally meet mine, golden and fierce.

"But you need to understand that I was wrong, so wrong, before. Burning our house down was the biggest mistake I've ever made. And worst of all, I nearly killed Al in the process. You remember how sick he got afterwards. I told myself it was his asthma, a reaction to the smoke or something, but I felt like it happened because he was scared of me. And I knew that if he was, it would be right of him.

"Because I decided to end his life for him, and I told myself it was for the greater good. I justified fucking _fratricide_, Winry! I did it like the coward I am, and I was prepared to go fucking through with it, all for ridding the world of my idiot father–"

_He's crying,_ I observe, feeling outside of myself. _Ed's crying. _

_Do something._

I grab his shoulders, none too gently, and pull him tight against me. The feeling of him banishes Dream Edward entirely, and just for that, I hug him even closer.

"You know why I'm right, though," I whisper, stroking his back without any reservations. "Why I'm right about you. You said it yourself."

His arms slowly encircle me, and I can feel his indecisive hands at the small of my back.

"C'mon, Ed, just say it."

"Because in the end, I couldn't do it. No matter the price, I couldn't kill someone I… l-love."

_Love._

I press my face into his shoulder to hide my own tears.


	13. Collect Call

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Collect Call**

_I know it's a lie, I want it to be true_

_The rest of the ride is riding on you_

* * *

The next morning, we sit across from each other at breakfast in tense silence – not because of each other, but because of what we know must be done. So I break the unbearable quiet and ask the question that no one wants to answer.

"What next?"

He immediately stops shoveling his eggs into his mouth, although his eyes remain downcast to his nearly empty plate and his hands grip his utensils tighter atop the table's whorled surface.

With a voice gruff from disuse, he says, "We need to find Van Hohenheim."

* * *

It's one thing to say it; actually doing it is an entirely different task, and a much more difficult one. So we decide to consult Granny's infinite wisdom, but she isn't much help at all.

"If Hohenheim doesn't want to be found, he'll stay lost. Trust me. That's just his way." She says it not unkindly, but with a determined finality, and it's exactly the opposite of what Ed wants to hear.

"Crazy old woman!" he shouts to the sky, startling a nearby bird from the branches of the old oak on the hill. It's been there forever, even longer than the Quonset hut, and it overshadows the latter in a comfortable sort of way, especially when the light's hitting it just right. "Can't see past her own feelings–"

"We both know that that's an unfair thing to say," I chide him gently. I pull my jean jacket tighter around my shoulders, bracing myself against the oncoming breeze. I stare up at the sky at the bird, wheeling raggedly not too far above us. It looks so lonely that I suddenly feel irrationally upset, which reminds me of the unexpected surge of emotions that accompanied my finishing _Othello_, which reminds me of books, which reminds me of the–

"Library."

"What?"

I roll forward onto my knees and then onto the balls of my feet and shake the prickly feeling from my legs. I then reach out a hand to pull him up from his prone position on the crackling October grass. He takes it, albeit with a bit of confusion.

"I want to find out more about this Homunculus Company, and the library might have answers."

* * *

Of course I'd already consulted the web, because I trust Google with my life, but no matter what terms I used for my search (and believe me, I tried everything, from the word "homunculus" and even, I hate to admit, "Fuhrer Bradley"), nothing came up. Besides, if all the documents that Hughes found were in print, shouldn't at least _some_ of the clues be, too?

The search kiosks are unbearably slow, and the keywords I used during my previous searches don't turn anything up either. But I'm determined to find something, anything, really. So it's time to play it old school, and because Ed's taller than me now (which bothers me to no end), I drag him along into the stacks because he'll be able to better reach the higher shelves.

He looks highly uncomfortable, slouching against the edge of a shelf as he watches me fruitlessly dig through a political anthology written pretty recently, although I can't tell if his faraway expression results from boredom… or something else entirely.

"Hey!" I know it's mean, but I snap my fingers in front of his face anyway to get his attention. He jolts out of his reverie and glares at me, but at least he's paying attention now. "Could you grab that one over there? The spine has the Fuhrer's name on it."

I'm still leery of the remote possibility of incriminating the Fuhrer, but that guilty thought immediately vanishes in the face of Ed's sudden infuriatingly cocky grin. "What do you need again, _shorty_?"

"Twerp," I hiss in response. I push him aside, none too gently, and grab a stepping stool resting near the shelf's corner. I move to step up onto it, but I lose momentum and fall backwards with a surprised gasp–

–right into Ed's outstretched arms.

"Sorry," I mumble, infinitely glad that my back's to him and he can't see my burning face.

"S'okay," he answers quietly, and I'm suddenly well aware that we're the only ones around in this section of the building. The library is surprisingly big for being built in such a small town, but the higher the floor, the less people you see, and the less well-lit it is. The fourth floor is nearly empty; the closest voices I can hear are seemingly millions of miles of stacks away.

I jerk away from him as quickly as possible and stay turned away, trying to calm down. But it's nearly impossible, and it doesn't help that this moment is reminding me a lot of a terrible Julia Stiles movie I'd seen recently. I never knew people could get so hot and heavy in between bookshelves…

But those thoughts are completely banished when I hear Ed suddenly say, "Hey. Look at this."

I think my wildfire blush has faded enough that it's safe to face him again, so I turn around and see him reaching down towards the shelf I hadn't looked at yet, the one that begins the floor's history section. Some of the books look like they haven't been touched for a century and a half, and the one he picks up is so dusty that I can imagine it having sat here since the beginning of time.

"'The Science of Deconstructing and Reconstructing Matter,'" I read over his shoulder. "What does _that_ mean?" I feel a strange twinge, somewhere in my chest, when I look closely at the cover, with its tall, golden letters embossed on its brown leather surface.

_It looks a lot like the books that Ed and Al's dad used to keep up in the attic,_ I suddenly think.

"Alchemy," he whispers, almost reverently, which draws my mind back to the situation at hand. "Equivalent exchange…"

"W-what are you talking about?"

He sits down on the stool with an audible _plunk_, and I pull over another to sit down next to him, effectively blocking off the aisle. He then proceeds to rapidly flip through the heavy tome, releasing clouds of dust with every page, causing me to sneeze quite a few times.

"Aha!" he cries out, face flushed with excitement, and I look over to see the word 'Glossary' printed in curly black script that seems _handwritten_, which makes me wonder how old this book really is.

At this point, I don't bother asking him any more questions; I just sit and watch him in his enraptured state. He traces his finger down the page, mutters something, then flips farther back, past columns upon columns of words that I don't even recognize – '_aes cyprium_,' 'Dragon's blood,' and 'hepatic air' among them.

I follow his roaming figure and suddenly shiver, because I wonder how it would feel to have it trailing down my spine, or across my collarbone, or–

_Cut it out, cut it out, cut it OUT,_ I silently chant, but it doesn't do much good.

"There," he points, effectively bringing me back to the present, which I appreciate greatly. "'Philosopher's stone.'"

I wrinkle my nose. "What does _that_ mean?"

"'The Philosopher's Stone, also known by various other names such as the Red Stone, the Fifth Element, etc., is a powerful transmutation amplifier. Due to the absolute law of alchemy being equivalent exchange, the stone gives the illusion that someone is able to override that law. Being that it is an illusion, the powers of the stone itself are not unlimited, and only appears to allow an alchemist to bypass equivalent exchange as long as the stone retains its power.'"

Some of this is sounding extremely familiar, but I can't place it at all, which frustrates me to no end. Hazy memories and broken-up voices flood my brain, and it all comes back to–

"Your dad," I say suddenly, and Ed turns towards me so quickly that I fear whiplash.

"What?"

"He has this book. It's upstairs, in the attic, where he keeps those suits of armor. You know, the ones that Al used to like to climb in and out of."

"Too bad that all of that is a pile of ash and rubble now," Ed responds darkly, and I blurt out a hasty apology, because I'd somehow forgotten, like the moron I am, that only yesterday, it had been "that day."

"Hey, don't worry." He suddenly laughs, but there's no humor in it. "At least we can take this thing home with us for a few weeks. You got a library card?"

"Yeah, actually." I thumb through my wallet to check and pull out the blue plastic triumphantly… and whack him square on the cheek with it.

"Ow!" he hisses.

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim. "I'm so sorry! Here, let me see!" And without really thinking about it, I take his chin in my hand and tug him towards me, simultaneously pushing his shaggy blond bangs out of his eyes so I have a better view.

I can't help but giggle. "Oh, look, it left a mark…" I trace the faint red outline with my pointer figure, and only then do I notice the way he's looking at me.

_His eyes look so bright,_ I think. _So beautifully bright…_

"I… Sorry," I apologize lamely, which seems like the millionth time today, although this time, I strangely feel like I shouldn't.

He doesn't say anything, just looks at me, and I can't help but think of the moment we shared on the front stoop, the scene in my bedroom… and how he'd broken down right in front of me, hugging me so tightly that I was left breathless. _But he pushed you away, too,_ I recall, remembering how close together our faces had been, and then how far apart they became moments later.

So I quickly take my finger away and stand up, attempting to brush all conspicuous dust streaks from my black leggings and failing miserably, but not really caring, because I can only think of how badly I wanted to… well, keep doing whatever I was doing. Paninya's knowing smirk lazily floats to the forefront of my thoughts, and I regretfully repress it, because I shouldn't get my hopes up. It just isn't worth it.

Besides, we have bigger fish to fry.

"I think I'm going to grab that book on the Fuhrer," I say quietly. I can't shake the feeling that it might be helpful, and anyway, it gives me an acceptable excuse to look away from him. And luckily, I can handle the stool this time, because I couldn't stand to ask him to retrieve it for me again.

"Okay," he responds hollowly, and I wish that I could read his mind, just this once, and know what he's thinking. A space in my chest suddenly painfully constricts, but I don't have time to think about why, because that's when we hear–

"Brother? What are you doing here?"

* * *

**Author's note:** The definition of 'Philosopher's Stone' that Ed reads to Winry came directly from the Fullmetal Alchemist Wiki. Also, sorry I've kept you waiting so long. I had three papers due in the past two weeks. Thanks for being patient. Expect another chapter tomorrow.


	14. Aha!

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Aha!**

_Nicest, sweetest, utmost in everything_

_So charming, very charming_

_Well-read, can play the fool, no one's ill at ease_

_And put their deepest Swiss bank trust in you…_

_No one saw it coming_

* * *

"Brother? What are you doing here?"

There stands Alphonse Elric, hand resting lightly on the first history shelf on which we had found the book that could quite possibly be the answer to all of our problems.

"Hey! Winry!" Al takes long-legged strides down the aisle and catches me by the waist, pulling me into a deep hug that I'm definitely not ready for. "Haven't seen _you_ in awhile!"

"Er, yeah," I say, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder. "Nice to see you. Why are you here?"

"We're looking for books for research on our AP World History theses."

_Wait. 'We?'_

"Alphonse, I think I found the right boo-ook–"

I peek over Al's sweatshirt-encased shoulder and see a girl standing there, a thick anthology entitled _The Mythos of Xerxes_ clutched tightly to her chest. She wears her extremely long and silky-dark hair in twin braids that cascade gently down her rose-colored dress in a fashion that my own thick blond tail can only dream of. She had originally sported a cheerful smile, but it's slowly dripped into a grimace, and I put two and two together and realize why.

I push Alphonse away from me at lightning speed and give her a tiny wave. "Um, hi! I'm Winry… and you must be May!" And just to be safe, I add, "Al talks about you _all_ the time!"

"Winry!" Al hisses, a shade too twitchy to appear cool and collected, but my assurance of his affections has seemed to soften her up just a little bit; she offers me a small nod of the head, a smile slowly returning to grace her round face.

_Oh, I am going to have _so_ much fun with this._

May then turns to Ed and cocks her head curiously. "Are _you_ Alphonse's brother?" she asks, her high voice slipping like water over her consonants.

"Yeah," he responds, winking at her. And then–

"Are _you_ Alphonse's girlfriend?"

"_Oookay_," I say loudly, punching him on the arm none too lightly as Al looks on in equal parts embarrassment and horror. "You know what? Let's go get lunch together or something and forget he ever said that."

"Sounds good to me!" Al tacks on hurriedly. "I could really use a sandwich!"

"Will you be putting lots of _may_onnaise on it?"

That crack earns Ed another punch, and I drag him away from Al's spluttering towards the elevator bank before he can do any more damage.

* * *

We approach the circulation desk, and I drop our two books – _The Science of Deconstructing and Reconstructing Matter_ and _The Rise of Fuhrer Bradley_ – onto the counter with an unceremonious _whump_.

Behind the desk sits a girl totally engrossed in a novel; I rather conspicuously lean forward and see that it's one of those sexy romance stories that Granny has never let me within one hundred yards of (although, frankly, my love life has been so stunted up to this point that I probably wouldn't understand a word of the content). The girl doesn't look anything like the unrealistically busty woman featured on the book's cover, with her flowing red locks and "come hither" expression, but she's actually pretty adorable, with an appearance like Velma Dinkley from the Scooby-Doo series, complete with enormous glasses and a thick brown bob.

"Hi, can I help you?" she asks as she hastily stows her book underneath the desk, but I'm too busy looking at her to really notice, trying to figure out where I've seen her before–

"Do you work at the Staples across the street?" I suddenly blurt out.

She blushes a little in response. "You're scissors girl, right?" She looks over at Al then. "And you're her friend?"

"Yeah… Sorry about that," I respond sheepishly as Al nods. "I was kind of mad at someone that night." Ed isn't even looking at me as I say it, but I swear that out of the corner of my eye, his cheeks have turned slightly pink.

"What's your name?" Al asks.

"Oh, me?" The girl's blush deepens. "I'm Sheska. Sheska Lau."

_Sheska, Sheska, Sheska._ Where had I heard that name before?

"You're in our physics class!" I cry out in triumphant realization, which abruptly ends in embarrassment, because honestly, if she wasn't Paninya's lab partner, I probably would've never noticed her.

"Yup, that's me." She squirms slightly in her seat. "Um, so about those books…"

"Oh, right!" I pick the books up one at a time and hand them to her, and she lifts a scanner to their barcodes. But as she scans the alchemy book, the computer begins beeping loudly, drawing a few glares from the quiet readers sitting at the tables around us.

"Huh." Sheska pushes her round frames farther up her small nose. "The records say that this book shouldn't be in circulation." A tiny frown begins to take shape as she lifts its cover, looking for a card pocket that doesn't seem to exist.

"I can't let you check this one out. I'm really sorry," she says, and she looks like she means it. She begins to pull it off the counter.

"Hey, wait!" Ed slams his metal fist down atop its surface, and his arm shudders audibly, which reminds me that the wrist joint needs repairing after that episode two nights ago. Sheska cringes away, looking between him and the arm with wide eyes, although thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice.

"We really need this book. Can't you help us out?"

She looks very conflicted at this. "I… I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't risk this job. I need the money for tuit–" Her blush spreads to the rest of her face, and she doesn't complete the sentence, although I suddenly understand why.

"It's really alright," I say gently, feeling very lucky (and a bit sad all the same) that my parents had left Granny a large sum of money to pay my way through college. "Sorry to bother you. We'll just take these two." I add May's book to the pile, and Sheska scans it, and then my library card.

"Thanks a bunch," Al says as we take the books back. "See you around!" Together, we shuffle towards the library exit, but then–

"Wait!"

All four of us turn around in near perfect unison to see Sheska round the desk, her hands twisting together rapidly.

"I. Uh." She approaches us with a deer in the headlights expression, and I wonder why she looks so nervous all the sudden. "Wait for me to finish my shift, and then…"

She's close enough for us to hear her whisper, "I'll tell you what I know about the philosopher's stone."

* * *

Half an hour later, we end up squeezed into a booth at the Subway across the street. Al munches somewhat dejectedly on his mayonnaise-less sandwich (I can tell that he's still embarrassed enough about what transpired before that he's decided to forgo his favorite condiment) while Ed obnoxiously slurps his cola from a plastic straw. His elbow digs into my ribs, and I consider swatting it away, but just then Sheska begins to speak.

"I…" she starts, then stops to clear her throat. "I-I… S-see, I have a photographic m-memory."

"Really?" Al asks curiously. "That's pretty cool! Studying for tests must be a breeze!"

"I… yeah." Her blush returns, and I can see May giving her a full-on glare, which makes me wonder if Sheska's starting to crush out on my favorite gentle giant. I smile half-heartedly, questioning when exactly our lives became so complex in seemingly every way possible.

"But that's not the point." Al's compliment seems to have bolstered her confidence, because she loses her stutter. "It's just… I know it sounds crazy, but if I read a book, I can memorize it entirely."

"Oh!" I gasp suddenly, and everyone turns to look at me. "You've read _that_ book, haven't you? The one about alchemy?"

Ed looks impressed, which is praise in its highest form from him. "Wow. You can remember _every_ word from that gigantic doorstop?"

"Ed…" I grumble.

"Well… yes. Y-yes, I do."

"So, what do you think we need to know from it?" asks Al, getting right down to it.

Sheska starts wringing her hands together again, her eyes downcast and full of worry. "You're not going to like my answer."

"What do you mean by that?" Ed wonders.

"Do you know what philosopher's stones do?"

"They augment alkahestry," answers May quietly from the corner of the booth, and four pairs of eyes whip around in her direction.

"Alkahestry?" Al wrinkles his nose. "What's that?"

"It's a form of alchemy, historically practiced largely by Xingese people, although there are records that some Ishvalans also learnt it," answers Sheska almost automatically, as if dispensing information verbatim comes naturally to her… which, I suppose, it does.

"Ishvalans?" Al tries asking, but May shakes her head.

"Never mind that. It works for alchemists, too," she says firmly, but I'm curious about the presence of Ishvalans in our conversation, too, so I make a mental note to look into it for him.

"Wait. You're saying that people were _actually_ alchemists?" I suddenly realize, remembering Sheska's definition.

She takes a delicate sip of her jumbo iced tea, contemplating her answer. "They're just myths," she finally says, although it sounds as if she doesn't quite believe it, and therefore, neither do I.

"Well, what else can you tell us about the philosopher's stone?" Ed asks.

Her eyes are very, very sad, I notice. I lay a hand comfortingly on her arm.

"You don't need to tell us if you don't want to," I say.

"N-no, it's fine." She draws a deep breath. "It's just…"

"It takes a great catastrophe to form philosopher's stones. They disturb the very nature of our universe." She stares right through me as she says this. "The ancient Cretans used to say something along the lines of, 'there's no such thing as a free lunch,' and they were right."

"But you're bumming this lunch right off of us–"

"But I'm going to feel indebted to you for it, and therefore, you're going to eventually benefit from your act of generosity, see? Because I'll want to pay you back."

"Well, what if you weren't this honorable, and decided to take the lunch for free?"

"I'd lose your trust, and maybe even your friendship," Sheska counters just as quickly. She absentmindedly runs a hand through her hair as she adds, "There's always a price for everything, even if it doesn't seem obvious at the time."

"Equivalent exchange," Ed suddenly whispers, repeating himself from before, and she nods at him.

"Yes, the theory of equivalent exchange, the principle underlying every alchemic reaction... and, naturally, the creation of the stones."

"What kind of catastrophe creates one, then?" asks Al. "If they're so powerful?"

Her eyes suddenly refocus, and zoom right in on the Elric brothers, much to their surprise. Her gaze is imploring as she blurts out, "Don't judge him too harshly. He realized his mistake a long time ago. You _need_ to understand that!"

"Who?" they inquire together.

"Van Hohenheim, of course. The creator of the first philosopher's stone... and the engineer of the Xerxesian society's collapse."


	15. When U Love Somebody

**Chapter Fifteen**

**When U Love Somebody**

_Baby, remember on the bus and my hand was on your knee?_

_When you love somebody, it's hard to think about anything but to breathe_

* * *

"You really did a number on this," I mutter, my index finger lightly skimming across the prosthetic arm's steel surface. "I can't believe that the wrist joint malfunctioned after just one little hit…"

"Well, about that," he begins nervously, purposefully avoiding my gaze. "It was kinda-sorta fractured… already. When I got here."

"_Edwaaard_!"

I only refrain from hitting him over the head with my favorite wrench because at that moment, Granny walks into the Quonset, toting a large grocery bag filled with scrap metal.

"Oh," is all she says, watching me poised to deliver a well-deserved deathblow. She then notes the arm I've just deconstructed, lying out naked on the operating table, and purses her thin, wrinkled lips.

"What if…"

"What if what?"

She rummages through her bag, mumbling to herself about "alloy this" and "enameled that," and finally produces something shiny and smooth.

"Melt this down," she says, or rather demands. She places it easily upon the table, and I reach for it, delicately turning it over in my gloved hands. It's startlingly lightweight, but it looks anything but brittle and breakable. My mind lands on an image of a pimped-out motorcycle I'd seen at the stoplight outside of the shopping center–

"Is this chrome?"

Granny nods. "If you're going to patch him back up, you might as well add some new improvements, right?"

I nod quickly, excited at the prospect of a new project. Anything to avoid working on the latest paper Miss Sult's assigned us for Lit class.

_She really _is_ evil._

"This is going to take all weekend," I warn Ed once Granny's left the room. "You okay with being out of commission for a few days?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, but I can tell that he's hurting. "Yeah, yeah, do whatever you want, gearhead."

"If you call me that one more time, I swear you'll be without an arm for a _month_!"

* * *

Ed, Paninya, Sheska, and I decided to team up on a group project for Physics, but we aren't getting very far.

"This assignment _must_ qualify as cruel and unusual punishment," Paninya grumbles, stabbing at one of the graphs with her mechanical pencil. Calculating the data was easy enough, but we became thoroughly stumped after plotting it out. It forms a sort of bell curve for acceleration, and we're supposed to extrapolate information from it – namely, what kind of machine the graph depicts.

"How are we even supposed to know this?" Ed asks, rolling his eyes. "Havoc's a mean, mean person." He slumps forward onto his stomach, burying his face into my bedroom's fluffy carpet square.

"He might be a little upset, seeing as Miss Sult's taken a leave of absence," Sheska comments absentmindedly, tracing a line over the data.

"Wait, what?"

"Yeah, she's going to be out for the next month or so," she continues. "Something about being called back to Central City for a 'consultation,' whatever that means. Mr. Nevy, the drama teacher, went with her."

"But Mr. Edger's still here?" Ed asks quickly, and in that moment, I know that we're thinking the exact same thing.

_Something's _definitely_ going on._

"I'm going to get some water," I say loudly.

He catches on immediately. "Me, too!" We stand up in tandem, and I grab ahold of him to make sure he's steady. Being without his arm can sometimes mess with his equilibrium, and that makes me feel a bit guilty. But only a bit, because we both know that this is pretty much all his fault.

"You guys want anything?" I ask hurriedly.

"No thank you," Sheska responds politely.

Paninya shakes her head as well, and then starts making kissy faces that Ed thankfully can't see.

"Don't take too long!" she crows.

I slam the door none too gently in response.

* * *

"We need to find them," is the first thing that Ed says once we tumble down the stairs towards the kitchen. I know that when he says that, he's thinking about his dad, too. He tried to hide it, but I could tell that Sheska's story really got to him.

He sits down heavily at the table then, simultaneously forcing its legs backward at a precarious angle. "But how? Granny won't let us leave Resembool without a really, _really_ good excuse."

"I have no clue, but we need to figure it out, and fast." I haphazardly pull two glasses from a cabinet, nearly knocking an entire row over, and slam them up against the water filter built into the refrigerator. "We need to think outside the box."

My mind is going way too fast, one thought messily spilling over into the next. And then–

"Riza!"

"What about her?" He takes the glass I hand to him and chugs it down.

"Do you think she could be in danger?" I settle down next to him, clutching the glass tightly in my hands.

He frowns. "I didn't consider that, but…" He pauses, thinking.

"Wait a minute!" He leans back farther in the chair. "This is going to sound pretty bad, but… what if we told _Roy_ that we really think she _could_ be in danger?"

"And then he'd freak out and rush down to Central to make sure that she's okay–"

"–and we could get him to take us with him!"

We both burst out laughing, even though there's absolutely nothing funny about the situation. But it just feels so goddamn nice to do so.

"H-he might n-not believe us, y-you know," I say once I can form a coherent sentence again.

Ed hiccups. "Yeah, but he's at his breaking point. I think he'll jump at the chance to see her. And besides…

"People do crazy things when they're in love."

_Wait. What–_

With a sudden _squee_, Ed's chair finally falls backward, and unable to catch himself, he topples to the floor.

"Ed!" I shout, practically falling out of my own chair as I drop to the floor. I hover uncertainly above him, but he looks okay, just a little shaken up.

"Ugh, Jesus–" He blearily rubs his eyes with his remaining hand. "That sucked."

And then, "Ow."

"You alright?" I ask, unable to hide the worry from my voice.

"Yeah, just. My neck."

"Oh," is all I can say. "Should I get Granny?"

"Nah, it's okay, just help me up."

I begin to do just that, but then a pair of voices enter the kitchen, and I stop short, one arm still supporting his shoulders.

"Who–"

I shush him with a finger to my lips, curious as to whom it is. We're partially concealed by the long tablecloth that Granny had set out for lunch, so we can listen in without being seen.

"I wonder where those losers got off to," says the first voice, and I immediately recognize Paninya. "They're absolutely ridiculous. Why don't they just make out with each other already?"

With a tiny squeak, I let go of Ed immediately, scooting farther underneath the table and hiding my burning face in my hands.

"They'd definitely make cute babies," says the second voice – Sheska – and I'm ready to curl up and die at this point.

"Whoa, sister, don't get ahead of yourself. Let's see if they can even touch each other without blushing."

_This is it. This is how I'm going to go out. Hiding underneath a table and spontaneously combusting as a result of my best friend's gargantuan mouth._

Because it isn't like she's wrong. I mean, you know, about the whole blushing thing. Not the babies thing. I don't want to think about that, at all, ever again.

I chance a glance over at Ed, and that's the moment that he decides to look over at me, because our eyes meet, and I can practically feel myself being lowered into the grave that Paninya's dug for me.

But then their conversation resumes, and I snap back to attention, peeking through a hole in the tablecloth and desperately trying to ignore Ed's eyes with all my might.

"These are pretty cute!" Sheska's saying, and I can see her gently spinning Granny's K-cup carousel. Granny's addicted to those tiny portions of coffee, and she uses the Keurig machine that I got her last Christmas every morning. And then–

"You're pretty cute, yourself," says Paninya, and before I can stop myself, I grab Ed's arm, squeezing tightly. He hisses in pain, but I ignore him. I _need_ to hear what happens next!

"Um…" I can perfectly envision Sheska's quiet blush. "Thank you. Very much."

"Hey, no problem!" There's a smile in Paninya's voice.

"Want to get back to work? I want to finish that sheet before it grows cobwebs, and besides, who knows when those lovebirds will be back, right?"

They shuffle out of the kitchen then, and I slowly release my grip on Ed's arm. Paninya had never let me know that she was attracted to girls, but I don't want to jump to any conclusions. I guess I'll just have to wait and see, but–

"I ship it," I say quietly, almost reverently.

"What?" asks Ed.

"N-never mind." I don't want to keep our friends waiting, so I tack on, "Let's just get back upstairs."

"O-okay," he answers hesitantly, and this is what makes me finally turn to look at him. His golden gaze is unsure, of all things, and it's that that makes me want to just throw caution to the wind and plant a big fat kiss right on his lips.

But I don't. Because I can't.

"C'mon," is what I say instead.

We're passing that K-cup thingie when suddenly, my words come back to me.

I picture the data in my head, thinking quickly, and then–

"It's a carousel!"

Ed stares at me. "What?"

"The graph that Havoc gave us. It's showing a carousel's acceleration. You know, how during every rotation, they go over a slight bump? So there's a tiny window where it speeds up, and then slows down. That's gotta be the curve in the data!"

"How'd you come up with that?" he asks, sounding impressed.

"Thought outside the box," I answer, and I flick one of the coffee containers with my finger, all the while wishing that that strategy could help me untangle this whole relationship thing, too.


	16. Believer

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Believer**

_I'm just a believer_

_That things will get better_

_Some can take it or leave it_

_But I don't wanna let it go_

* * *

It starts out with a lie. Society values honesty, but, like with anything, terms and conditions apply. And the terms and conditions of our situation were such that, when it was all over, I felt immensely glad about all of it.

Because sometimes, lies are the only way to uncover the truth.

* * *

We planned to drop our shitty plan right in Roy's lap the moment we got back to school on Monday, but it takes almost a week to get an audience with the king of Resembool County High. All the while, I've chewed my fingernails down to stumps, because the disappearance of Miss Sult and Mr. Nevy strikes me with a heavy sense of foreboding. Ed and I filled Granny and Al in on what happened and what we were planning to do about it, and much to my surprise, Granny was all for it.

"Something needs to be done about that man," she remarked casually in her wrinkly voice as she unceremoniously dumped an entire box of spaghetti into a bubbling pot atop the stove. "Spoon, please."

Al silently withdrew a wooden mixing spoon from within the labyrinth of our cutlery drawer. Mom was the one who was best at cleaning up all of our messes, large and small, and ever since she and Dad died, the house never quite recovered.

"Thank you," Granny said in a singsong tone, wincing a little when a splash of boiling water doused her right thumb. "Now set the table."

"Which man are you talking about, anyway?" I asked her as I carefully folded four worn linen napkins. "Mr. Nevy?"

Granny shook her head at that, a sudden cloud of steam hiding her face from us.

"No, the Mustang boy. Watching him give up on life hasn't been a pretty sight. I'm sure that even you children have noticed it, no?"

Ed sighed loudly. "Yeah. He smells like a walking bottle of Jack, even at seven-thirty in the morning."

Granny suddenly whirled on him, tiny arms akimbo and round spectacles fogged over with water vapor. But she looked no less threatening as she angrily brandished her spoon in his face, nearly poking his eyeball out.

"And _how_ do you know what whiskey smells like, young man?"

* * *

Mr. Havoc puts in a good word for me, and Ed and I (Al has basketball practice) finally get to see Roy on October twentieth, the day in which my fate will be decided forever. And I'm not just talking about my potential travel plans to Central to track down our teachers; my MIT interview over Skype is this evening.

But I have to put my latest college freak-out on hold, because when I enter the principal's office, I discover that Ed was entirely right – Roy smells like he's wearing Jack Daniels as cologne, and copious amounts of it at that.

"Sit down, kids, I don't have all day."

As we take our seats, the sour odor of whiskey rolls off of him in waves, and I shift away from his heavy oaken desk in what I hope is the most inconspicuous manner possible.

Ed has noticed the smell, too; I see his nose wrinkling before he begins to speak.

"Look, sir," he begins, drumming his newly rewired chrome-plated fingers against his knee. I smile to myself, admiring the bang-up job I'd done on them. Chrome and steel – an utterly unexpected yet strangely synergistic combination.

_Just like Roy and Riza,_ I think with a jolt. _The man who puts on a flashy show to hide his true feelings about the disappearance of his one true anchor, steadfast and unwavering–_

In that moment, it isn't at all in self-interest when I blurt out, "Principal Mustang, I think you need to go to Central City."

His eyes flash and refocus, but slow enough that I can begin to peer down into the overflowing well of fear, anger, and hurt below its liquid-dark surface.

"And why would I do that?" he asks in his typical gravelly manner, subconsciously stroking the faded red marks that stripe across the back of his right hand with the calloused pad of his left thumb. I remember Granny telling me that they're unfortunate souvenirs left over from the war that _no one_, especially its veterans, likes to talk about.

"Because if Miss Sult and Mr. Nevy are involved with this Homunculus Company thing, like you said before, and they're staying in Central for the month… Wouldn't it be, er, a good idea to check up on Ri – I mean, Ms. Hawkeye?"

I try to sound as concerned as possible, which really isn't that hard, because I've begun to realize that our plan may just have one little problem: it's taken on a reality of its own.

Roy just stares at me, and I gulp, loud and deep.

Ed surprises me by continuing on with, "We're actually really worried about you. Because you've, you know." He lightly blushes.

"All I'm saying is, you've been drinking a lot lately. _A lot_. And you haven't been putting in that stupid hair gel, you don't look like your usual slick self."

I jump right on that bandwagon. "And Mr. Havoc says that you haven't visited your auntie since–"

I'm cut off in my tracks with a sudden, infuriated roar.

"I know, I know, _I KNOW_!"

Roy sweeps the steadily growing mountain of unsigned paperwork clean off his desk surface; it silently flutters to the thick green piled carpet in a whirlwind of white.

"It's all Bradley, _Bradley_, that fucking _murderer_! Taking away everyone I fucking care about, drowning the whole goddamn country in blood just so he can keep it trapped in his shitty hands!" The principal sits back down in his wing-backed chair with a dejected _thunk_, and I try my hardest not to stare. I don't want to believe the tears beginning to form in his baggy, bloodshot eyes.

"God, what I would _give_ to see that bastard dragged away from office. To watch his wife cry over him because she'll never see him again, never get to kiss him or touch him or hear his voice for the rest of her whole fucking life...

"God. God fucking _dammit_!"

_He's talking about Riza,_ I realize. I chance a glance over at Ed, and he looks seriously frightened. This makes me all the more afraid, because from what I've observed throughout our decade and a half of friendship, not much seems to scare him.

Seeing as Roy has used practically every swear I know, and in front of his students, no less, I decide that the rules have officially gone out the window. I stand up, dust a stray sheet of paper off my right knee, and round his desk. I then proceed in my customary bumbling fashion to hesitantly place an arm around his shaking shoulders.

I've only ever seen a real, live adult cry once, and that was Granny at my parents' funeral. Now that I'm older, and I understand the true weight of what's going on, it's all the more shocking to me.

But I would never, ever pull away from the way that Roy holds onto my hand like a lifeline, the deep, dark wells of his eyes rapidly draining, because I realize that he's been holding back on this for weeks and weeks.

"I just need to see her again," he mumbles at one point, and I snap to attention. "Before…"

But he doesn't finish his sentence, and that serves to solidify the significance of the warning bells going off in my head – I can no longer ignore that whatever's happening, it's happening soon.

Ed has joined me now, and my silent stare serves as the perfect catalyst to get him to help me in my mission to calm down our heartbroken principal, one painfully awkward pat on the back at a time.

* * *

Later that night, a chorus of quiet knocks on my door interrupts my deep breathing exercise, which consists of me lying face down on my bed and trying to keep up a constant flow of oxygen whilst forcibly smothering myself with my pillow.

"Winry…?"

_Whumph._ The pillow makes a dejected sigh as it falls to the floor.

"What?"

"Can we… come in?"

I nod vigorously, until I remember that they can't see me. "Yeah, sure–"

The door blasts wide open, admitting a whole slew of people. Paninya's the first to reach me, and when I give her a tentative smile, she falls all over me, wrapping me up in her arms and giving me at least five noogies.

"My baby's going to America! My baby's going to MIT! My baby's going to America–"

"Don't jinx it!" chides Sheska, but gently so. She then showers me with a huge grin.

"Congrats, Winry! They'd be _crazy_ not to accept you!"

Granny sits down next to me, watching me fruitlessly attempt to wrestle out of Paninya's vice grip. "So… success?"

"Yeah. I think so. They complimented my English, and they seemed really interested in our neural wiring processes. I think I explained those pretty well, although I might have garbled some of the technical terms… Anyway. I even told them about constructing Ed's new arm… I think that impressed them!"

Granny takes my hand and strokes it soothingly, her beady eyes overflowing with pride, and I suddenly feel like I'm about to cry.

Happy tears, of course.

"What are you all doing here, anyway?" I ask, looking around the room for the face that I want to see most. Noting his absence, I tack on, "And where's Ed?"

"I loaned him my car to go grab some ice cream sundaes from Friendly's," Paninya answers.

"Extra hot fudge?" I ask.

She nods. "Extra hot fudge."

"This why we're best friends," I say, very seriously, and she laughs and plants a kiss on my forehead.

"C'mon, Sheska, let's go help Granny set the table!" She pulls Sheska none too gently out the door, and Granny chuckles, following them.

"Really, congratulations, Win," Al says, finally stepping forward and lightly giving me a fist bump.

"Oh, jeez, what was that?" I grab a fistful of his RCH Varsity Basketball t-shirt and wrap him in an octopus-style hug.

"See, big guy? _Much_ better!"

He laughs and pats my head. "Okay, okay, you're right." He then pulls slightly away and grabs my shoulders, looking very earnest all of the sudden.

"Is it okay if I, er, well… invite May over for dinner and dessert?"

His flushing nose and ears make me giggle. "Oh, my gosh, of course! She can come over whenever she wants! Hell, she can move in–"

"Alrighty," Al cuts in hastily. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves." This reminds me of Paninya and Sheska's conversation in the kitchen last weekend about a certain golden-eyed someone, and when I hear the car door slam outside, my heartbeat suddenly speeds up.

"Oh! Ice cream!" Al perks up just like Den does in the presence of a tennis ball. This gives me an ample window to furiously fan my cheeks with my hands, desperately attempting to remain calm and collected. But Al never notices; he's out the door and down the stairs before I can say anything else.

I sigh, laughing to myself, and lean down to pick up my previously fallen pillow. I sit down on my bed and carefully adjust it, enjoying one last quiet moment–

"Hey," says a voice from the doorway, and I don't need to turn around to see whom it belongs to.

But I do so anyway. "Hi."

Before I can stop him, he crosses the room, lifts me off my feet, and twirls me in a circle, arms tightly secured around me all the while. I'm left breathless and dizzy, and not just by the spinning. His golden gaze looks so, so pleased.

"You never cease to amaze me," he whispers, and I nod uncertainly, a blush rapidly spreading across–

When he gently kisses me on the cheek, my brain promptly short-circuits.

* * *

As I slurp up the last bits of hot fudge puddle soaking through the bottom of my cardboard sundae cup, I can't do anything but smile like an idiot and think about the way he looked at me, the feeling of his arms around me... and the startlingly light press of his chapped lips to my face.

_Maybe..._

* * *

**Author's note:** Yes, that last bit from Ed is a total rip-off of that wonderfully cute moment between _The Legend of Korra_ characters Mako and Korra in the second episode of the second book (season). If you haven't seen it yet, I command you to do so. Now.


	17. Timber

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Timber**

_It's going down, I'm yelling timber_

_You better move, you better dance_

_Let's make a night, you won't remember_

_I'll be the one, you won't forget_

* * *

_"You think I'm gorgeous, you want to kiss me, you want to hug me…"_

_"Okay, you've had enough." He plucks the Bud from my hand, avoiding my eyes as he does so._

_But if I'm anything, I'm stubbornly persistent, and I attempt to chase his arm, but wow, it's so far away…_

_My aim is obviously a little off, because I end up grabbing the end of some girl's short hair. She turns around and gives me a strange look._

_"Winry? How'd you get so… shitfaced?"_

_It's Paninya, my best friend Paninya, my best friend, clutching a red Solo cup in one hand and a smiling Sheska in the other._

_"You guysssss," I slur. "You guys…"_

_"…What?"_

_I don't realize that my eyes have been tearing up until a big fat tear rolls down my cheek. I wipe it away, taking off about half of my mascara in the process; the black ink trails down the side of my hand like a scar._

_"You… You're just so goddamn _cute_!" I pronounce it like 'cahyoot'; Paninya looks at me in two parts horror and amusement._

_"The cute, cute girlfrandsssss!" I shout to the whole room, but no one's listening._

_"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," Pitbull advises me in response, his slightly accented voice puncturing the twangy sound of a techno-inspired harmonica._

* * *

"Lookin' good, girl!" says Paninya happily, adding one last stroke of red face paint to her cheek. She pouts into the mirror, turning from side to side and admiring her hard work.

I pretend that she's talking to me as I finish pulling Sheska's hair back into a tight ponytail. "Aw, shucks!"

"Well, actually, that was aimed at Sheska," Paninya counters, dropping the other girl a wink. She stutters out a bright-red 'thank you,' not even trying to hide her pleased smile.

"Oh, stop flirting," I grumble, brushing out an errant tangle. We're sitting in Paninya's cavernous bathroom, filled to the brim with rows upon rows of make-up in all its confusing forms; pressed powder, concealer, blush, mascara, eyeliner… I don't even have names for some of the pots and boxes and tubes that I see. Despite appearances, Paninya's actually pretty girly, and Dominic spoils her rotten by showering her with anything she wants.

"Okay, I think you're all set!"

Sheska does, in fact, look extremely good as Chihiro Ogino, the protagonist of the movie _Spirited Away_. I'd added a cheap set of extensions to her shaggy brown bob, and they are actually pretty well hidden, making me feel proud of my hairstyling skills. A baggy t-shirt and a pair of pink short shorts (she'd had to borrow those from me) complete the outfit, and I'm glad to see that she looks comfortable enough in it, despite the fact that it's much more exposing that her usual enormous sweaters.

We'd decided a few days ago that our costumes should all come from Ghibli films, and Paninya looks just as fierce as San from _Princess Mononoke_, with perfect red stripes trailing down her face, a necklace with a crystal pendant, and a fake knife stashed against her hip.

I'd chosen to dress up as Sophie Hatter from _Howl's Moving Castle_, although my stark blond hair isn't doing much for me. In the end, I defended my decision by deciding that my costume would be based off of book-Sophie instead, and I'd added a few red streaks of nonpermanent dye to my long braid to achieve her strawberry-blond look. A headband topped with three purple berry-like spheres smooths my long bangs away, and a green sundress paired with chocolate-brown combat boots completes the entire ensemble.

"Selfie attack!" Paninya shouts suddenly, and before I know what's happening, her dark arm clenches around my neck, pulling me close. Sheska gets dragged into the camera's sight just before the flash went off, and the end result is three faces smashed together, ridiculous smiles all around.

"That actually came out really well," I comment, surprised.

"That's going on Facebook," she replies in agreement.

I rummage around the messy sink for my purse, wondering where I've put it. I can hear Paninya and Sheska talking together in soft voices behind me, and I suddenly feel a lot like a third wheel, although I know for sure that they don't intend it to be that way.

"I'm glad you're coming to the party, Win, before Mr. Principal can steal you away to Central!"

I turn to her and frown. "Wait. How do you know that?"

Sheska gives a tiny wave while Paninya places her hands on her hips, looking a little angry.

"Keeping secrets, huh?" she retorts.

Sheska sighs and pushes her to the side. "Sorry, Winry," she says. "I see a lot of the school office's paperwork, and I noticed that Mr. Mustang recently purchased train tickets for four to Central City."

"How–"

"I sometimes help Ms. Catalina out after school," she explains.

"You have _three_ jobs?" I exclaim. "That's crazy! How do you even have time to breathe?"

She just shrugs, looking a little… sad. "Well…"

Paninya notices her forlorn expression and punches her lightly on the shoulder. "Let's forget about that for now, Shesh.

"After all, it's time to party!"

* * *

_"Seriously, how did she get this drunk?" Paninya asks the boy standing next to me, the one who took my precious Bud away. "Maybe you should take her back to my place, let her sleep it off? I can give you my keys!"_

_He shrugs, scratching his blonde head with a metal index finger. The sight of its shiny surface excites me into saying, "That arm! I _made_ that arm!"_

_"Yeah, I remember," he responds, gingerly patting me on the head, but it feels like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, an unpleasant feeling rolls up through my throat–_

_"Gotta go! Nice to meet you!" I holler incoherently over my shoulder. I stumble slightly, and then I've found the door, thank God. I rip it open, its screen door protesting with a whine too high-pitched to be pleasant for my totaled ears, and then–_

_It all comes spewing out in a nasty brownish froth, over the porch railing and into an unsuspecting bush._

_"Sorry," I say to it, feeling sort of weepy all of the sudden._

* * *

"We're _hereeeee_," Paninya sings loudly, recklessly swinging her clunky minivan, a hand-me-down from Dominic, into a spot on Russell Tringham's vast lawn.

The Tringhams are the richest people in the entire county, and probably the entire country, come to think of it. Russell's in my grade and a bit of a snob; his younger brother, Fletcher, is good friends with Alphonse. Their parents actually passed away about a year ago, but Russell was able to inherit their estate and the family fortune, as well as custody over Fletcher, upon his eighteenth birthday.

And although he comes off as a veritable killjoy most of the time, Russell Tringham throws the best parties.

Or, at least, so I've heard, because I've never been to a real-life house party before. And as I watch the silhouettes of my laughing classmates dart in and out of the artificial fog spreading across the grass and into the dark countryside forest beyond, I wonder if I really do belong here after all.

"Oh, look, there's no moon!" shouts Paninya, bringing me back to the present with an audible crash. She's right; the open sky on this unseasonably warm Halloween night is free of any light.

"Happy Halloween!" she hollers, grabbing Sheska's hesitant hand and pulling her through the fog and towards the house, which is the size of the grand town library and lit-up like an enormous birthday cake.

I move to follow them, and then shrink back, hands fisted tightly into my dress. A chill breeze blows past, raising goosebumps on my exposed shoulders, and I'm seriously considering busting into Paninya's van and holing up inside until the night is over, but then–

"Winry?"

I let out a shriek as a long white face with a hollow mouth and eyes looms out at me from the swirling fog.

"No, no, wait! It's just me!" An arm covered entirely by a long black cape quickly removes what I now realize is just a plastic mask, revealing the face of Edward Elric.

"Not gonna lie, you scared the shit out of me," I confess, rubbing my shaking hands over my upper arms in an entirely unsuccessful effort to warm up.

"Sorry," he murmurs, eyes darting from mine to the ground and a slight flush spreading across his cheeks.

* * *

_"I never thought you'd be this much of a lightweight," comes a dry voice next to me. I look over as another sour wave rises up into my mouth; it's that guy from before, the guy who stole my metal arm._

_I grab onto it, steadying myself, and then look up into his golden eyes. They're shocked wide-open, staring down at me._

_"You can keep it," I tell him, giving the arm a gentle pat._

_"Okay…" His voice trails off to a whisper. His eyes haven't moved an inch from mine._

_"You know, you're really, _really_ hot," I tell him, and those eyes blow up to the size of Granny's dinner plates. "Like. Hot. _Hawt_!" I scrutinize him as best as I can with my bleary vision._

_"Do you have a girlfriend or something? I would _totally_ be your girlfriend!"_

* * *

Suddenly, I'm thinking about that… incident last week. The one where… you know.

My hand subconsciously flies up to touch my cheek, right towards the spot–

_Maybe…_

I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath. _Calm down already._

"Wanna go get a drink?" I ask him.

I've never drank before.

* * *

_"You would… what?"_

_I sigh heavily, scrubbing my cheek and effectively transplanting the accidental black streaks from its surface to the entire back of my hand._

_"Sorry, though," I say apologetically, ignoring his stunned look. "I'm already in love with someone else. I guess I can't be _your_ girlfriend. I want to be _his_ girlfriend, you know?"_

_All the blood drains from his face, contrasting starkly with his all-black ensemble._

_"Y-you're… in l-love with someone?" he asks at a whisper._

* * *

"Did Russell invite you?" I ask, practically yelling to be heard over the music spewing from the mansion's surround-sound system.

"No, I came here with Al and May!" he yells back. "I went to the bathroom, and when I came out, they weren't where I'd left them. And then I saw you!"

"Oh," I respond, only giving him half of my attention. The other half is focused on the blue cooler sitting squat in the corner of the poorly lit hallway (which looks to be twice as wide as my bedroom). Inside is a mountain of ice, packed around a dozen or so bottles of beer.

Well, there's a first time for everything. I dart out and grab one, plus a napkin to twist the cap off, and before I can really think about it, I'm taking my first sip of alcohol.

"This tastes worse than I thought it would," I mumble, eyeing the nearly opaque glass bottle with suspicion.

"It usually does," he agrees. His roving eyes settle anywhere but on my face, and for some reason, this makes me take a huge gulp of the vile stuff.

I point towards the cooler. "You gonna have anything?"

"Nah, I've been hung over before, and I don't feel like doing it again any time soon." That's when a girl dressed up in a house bunny costume saunters past, winking at him.

"Hi, honey, what's your name?" she asks cheekily, giving him a coy smile.

"U-uh…"

Suddenly, I'm thinking, _Fuck it._

I pluck her shot right out of her hand and down it in half a second, almost enjoying the raw pain of the vodka shooting down my throat.

Both the girl and Ed stare at me with wide eyes, but I ignore them both and set off in search for Paninya and Sheska.

"Swing your partner round and round, end of the night, it's going down, one more shot, another round…"

* * *

_"Ugh, I know, it's horrible, isn't it? Absolutely hahribbleeeee…"_

_There's a long silence, so long that I begin to feel drowsy. Very drowsy. So drowsy, in fact, I fall straight into his surprised arms with a gracelesswhump._

_"Oh," is all he says._

_I don't wait for an invitation to continue. "And he doesn't even know!" I hiccup sadly._

_"I thought it was so ob-obvious… I mean, I can't stop thinking about k-kissing him! Like, all the time." I sniffle a little and twist around so that my face is buried into his shirt. After a heartbeat, his arms hesitantly wrap around my cold shoulders, and then tighten, his metal hand surprisingly warm on my back._

_"But I don't think he'll ever n-notice. I don't think he's really into all that lovey-dovey-lovey… stuff."_

_He suddenly pulls away, and I let out a little sound of protest, but the way he's staring me right in the face stops me short. His face is still very, very pale, and his eyes, the same color as the braid spilling out from beneath his black cloak, are very, very wide._

_"What if he _does_ notice, though? What would you… do?"_

_I shrug, yawning, too goddamn drunk to be suspicious of anything._

_"Probably… kiss 'im. Like, _all_ the time. He's really, really…"_

_The boy looks frantic. "What? Really what?"_

_"Special," I say like a sigh._

* * *

When I wake up in Paninya's bed on November first, swearing like a sailor at the fucking _torture_ going on in my poor, poor brain, I don't remember any of it.

* * *

**Author's note:** Winry's little drunken speech was inspired by the romantic banter between Gracie and Eric at the end of "Miss Congeniality." I imagine the Tringham's house looking a lot like Jay Gatsby's from the recent film, and the house bunny girl is a reference to the Halloween scene in "Mean Girls," which I love.


End file.
